


Words that Mean Something

by CaraLee



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Captain America (Movies), DCU, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Star Wars Setting, Bat Family, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, F/M, Gen, blurbs, just for fun
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-06
Updated: 2016-11-16
Packaged: 2018-03-10 18:16:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 23
Words: 28,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3299279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaraLee/pseuds/CaraLee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I like good strong words that mean something…”<br/>― Louisa May Alcott, Little Women<br/>***<br/>A collection of little mini-fics about the Bat-Family (with occasional guest stars) that result from one-word prompts produced by a random word generator or given by a reader.<br/>Seven to a chapter, everything from a single sentence to practically long enough to be it's own little fic.</p><p>Chapter 21: Star Wars AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Word Generator 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Quinis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quinis/gifts), [ilovelocust](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ilovelocust/gifts), [a2zmom](https://archiveofourown.org/users/a2zmom/gifts), [Ferith12](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ferith12/gifts), [Somariel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Somariel/gifts).



> For the most part, these take place in some sort of nebulous, non-specific continuity, usually in which the Bat Family are at least on speaking terms with each other.  
> There may be some from AUs as well, though none of those attached to my continued AUs are set-in-stone cannon. Some of them will actually be "Oooh! What if I did this instead" situations.
> 
> Requests are welcome!

**Profit**

Tim hid a small smirk behind his hand, giving a fake cough to excuse the obstruction. Tam shot him a glare, obviously not fooled.

Hey, he couldn’t help it if he was pleased by being able to pull one over on Lex Luthor of all people, even if it was only in the business world and only because one of the man’s underlings hadn’t believed that a seventeen year old high-school…temporary dropout was able to be CEO of Wayne Enterprises.

He couldn’t wait to wave the profit margin in Superman’s face.

* * *

**Smile**

There is a Very Secret Cork-board hidden in Tim’s apartment. It’s where they stick hard copies of all the pictures they’ve managed to get of Batman smiling.

There aren’t many, but they treasure them.

* * *

**Summit**

“Hey Double R.”

Tim glanced over at the other masked figure perched on top of the water tower. “Nightwing.”

The two of them just sat for a moment, watching the shadowed city beneath them, before a scream from Crime Alley pulled them back to work.

* * *

**Injury**

In the end, it wasn’t any great “save the world” moment or heart-breaking almost-deathbed conversation that got Tim and Jason to work together, it was the earth-shattering occasion of a brilliantly sunny day in Gotham. Alfred had banished the entire family outside for the day, which meant that Bruce had commandeered the gazebo, while the kids enjoyed the rare opportunity to utilize the outdoor pool. (Not the one in the pool house. The one that was actually outside.) Cass and Steph had joined forces to drag Tim into the water, so he was soaking wet and therefore banned from the gazebo and unable to help Bruce with going over the information from one of the latest cases. All was well.

And then “tomorrow” rolled around. And Jason and Tim, with their fair, sensitive, Gothamite skin, rather resembled boiled lobsters. Boiled lobsters in pain, smeared with green goop. (Why did Alfred even have Aloe Vera? The man was even more prepared than Bruce.) The girls had actually remembered sunscreen (a rarely used commodity in this city) and as for Dick and Damian… They had crowed their genetic advantage to the skies, flaunting their darker complexions in their brothers’ faces. Dick gleefully and Damian with his typical suffocating smugness. Tim and Jason had shared a look, for the first time ever in complete agreement.

This was war.

* * *

**Spotlight**

When they said that Dick Grayson was born in the spotlight, they meant it literally. His birth had resulted in a canceled last act, a harrowing delivery on the highest platform in the big top, and many surprised exclamations. He hadn't been due for another month at least and Mary had thought it safe to ascend to offer moral support during the show. She hadn't know they would not be able to leave Gotham in time. If she had… She looked sadly out the window of their trailer. She and John hadn’t wanted any child of theirs to be born in this city. Their nephew, Johnny, had been born outside of Paris, and both sets of Graysons had agreed to try and end the claim this dark place had on their bloodline. John and Richard had both been born here themselves, in this city that, as John said, “Eats our family.”

A tear ran down her face as she dropped a kiss on the black fuzz crowning her baby’s head. “I am so sorry, little Robin. We failed you.” They left for the next European tour in two months. She would have to pray that it would be enough to break him free of whatever curse bound them to this place. “And if it isn’t,” she whispered into the stillness, listening to her child breathe. “Take me instead. Let him be free and take me.”

Gotham could not have her son.

* * *

**Angle**

Babs tilted her head to peer up at her not-boyfriend as he balanced on one hand on the back of her sofa. Bright blue eyes sparkled back at her as he dropped his other hand to distribute his weight as he slowly bent his legs behind his back towards his head, forming himself into a misshapen “o” and (completely unintentionally she is sure) bringing his stinky bare feet into close proximity to her face.

The hacker rolled her eyes and smacked his feet away. She felt rather proud of the fact that she off-balanced him enough that he had to flip off of his perch.

That the end result was him joining her on the sofa had absolutely nothing at all to do with it. Nope.

* * *

**Muscle**

Tim frowned as he looked around the Batcave, unwrapping the bindings on his hands without needing to look, muscle memory taking care of the job.

Cassandra and Dick were playing some sort of weird hide-and-seek-tag game up in the ceiling, bouncing from shadow to shadow, only the occasional echoing laugh betraying where they had been. Steph was whaling away at her own punching bag, alternating kicks and hits with a viciousness that hinted at trouble ahead for somebody. Jason was bent over the work bench, doing something to a stack of batarangs. Probably trying to figure a way to get bigger explosions. Demon Brat was in the motor pool, tinkering with Dick’s motorcycle.

Excessive clothing (outside of uniforms) was never really the order of the day in the Cave, and that was shown in Dick and Jason’s shirtless states and the tank tops/wife beaters worn by the younger four. Tim winced as Cass flashed by in a barely visible blur of movement.

Sometimes, it was a little hard hanging out with these people, being part of this family.

Take Bruce for instance, Bruce was a 6’ 2” muscle-bound hunk of aggression. Then there was Jason, who was almost as tall and almost as built _and_ he was only nineteen so he wasn’t even finished growing yet. Steph had some pretty noticeable physicality herself these days, and Cass and Dick were all lithe grace and whipcord. Barbara's arms…Not even going to go there. Even Damian, who was _ten,_ had more real muscle definition than he did. Stupid little “perfect genetics” ninja assassin. (He weighed more than Tim too.) That’s not to say he didn’t _have_ muscles, it just didn’t show as obviously on him as it did on the others.

It sucked.


	2. Word Generator 2

**Dance**

Babs always felt awkward at these parties now. She had attended many of them in the past, her father being such a good friend of Bruce Wayne’s, not to mention her own, eventual friendship with Dick. But that had been Before.

A quick survey of the room showed that no one was watching her, and she quietly wheeled her way down the hall to one of the rarely used sitting rooms in this wing of the manor. The lights were off, but the full moon shone through the window and illuminated enough that she was able to safely park her chair.

She tried so hard not to let it get to her, but there were days when she missed her legs so much. She missed having to walk down the stairs in the morning, she missed the run to catch the bus to work because she’d overslept again, she missed wiggling her toes, she missed flying across the roofs of Gotham as Batgirl…

She missed dancing.

The door had closed behind her and blocked out most of the music from the ballroom, but every now and then a few notes made their way to her ears and every time it hurt more and more. Just when she knew she wouldn’t be able to hold the tears back any more there was a creak as the door opened. She quickly wiped her face and turned around to see who was intruding, only to see Dick, blinking at her, his shock not disguising the anger and hurt hanging about him.

“Babs? What are you doing in here?”

She glared at him, her embarrassment turning into anger. “None of your business. What are _you_ doing here? Have another fight with Bruce?”

He flushed and took another step towards her before stopping abruptly, peering closely at her face. She silently cursed the moonlight that she knew revealed how red her eyes were, if Dick asked her if she was alright then she’d…

“Want to dance?”

 _What?_ It was her turn to blink in confusion. Dick took another step, leaving the door open behind him, allowing the music to be clearly heard.

“Come on, let’s dance.” And before she really knew what he was doing he was hauling her out of her chair, her arms around his shoulders and his holding her steady at the waist.

They swayed back and forth for a moment and Babs realized that she wasn’t taller than him anymore, she hadn’t seen him since he…stopped being Robin. That had been more than two years ago and in those years, Dick Grayson had grown up.

* * *

**Lamp**

“Once upon a time there were four children named Peter, Susan, Edmund, and Lucy…”

Cass smiled as she curled up between Dick and Tim on the sofa, Dick’s voice a pleasant sound reading a new story, the fireplace crackling away and a cup of tea steaming on the side table as Alfred bustled around in the background and Batm- Bruce pretended not to listen from his armchair. She liked her new family a lot.

* * *

**Manhole**

Tim glared at the disc of metal as he pushed it aside. He hated chasing Killer Croc.

* * *

**Invention**

Jason poked the…thing warily. “What does it do?”

Dick grimaced. “I’m not entirely sure. I just know-”

The object whirred to life and shot across the room headed straight for Tim, who fled before it, shouting obscenities in about ten different languages, most of them threats directed at their youngest brother.

He turned to Damian, who was perched on the worktable in “his” corner of the Batcave.

The demon brat looked incredibly pleased with himself.

* * *

**Printer**

Jason wondered if “I shot the stupid thing ‘cause it wouldn’t work.” Would fly on a Wayne Enterprises expense report.

* * *

**Nursery**

Jason sighed and looked around the room. _Why was it always him_?

A five year old version of his oldest “brother” was curiously poking at the Demon Baby, babbling away at him in about a gazillion different languages all mashed together in such a haphazard way that Jason was only able to even recognize about half of them.

Replacement, about half-way between Dickie and Demon’s new (temporary, oh for the love of pizza please be temporary) ages (so about two) was tucked away into a corner, watching Jason with way too intelligent, wary eyes that made him feel like he’d kicked a basketful of assorted fluffy baby animals.

Brown, (three maybe?) went back and forth between trying to pull Replacement from his corner and coax Cain from the top of the bookshelf where she had retreated long before Jason had ever entered the room.

Screw this. He was calling Alfred.

* * *

**Jug**

Tim winced as he peeked over the railing at the disaster below.

“Um,” he glanced at the younger boy standing next to him. “It was an accident?”

Demon Brat actually grinned at him, giving the shards of broken pottery and prone form below them a gloating look. “I sincerely doubt that will save you, Drake. Once Todd regains consciousness.”


	3. Word Generator 3

**Tooth**

**(OR Damian Wayne Vs. the Tooth Fairy: Prologue)**

Stephanie was doing homework on the den floor when Tim’s yelp got her attention. Damian was looking at him disdainfully.

“What’s wrong?”

Both boys turned to face her and Steph did a double-take at the blood leaking out of Damian’s mouth. “Uh, what happened to you, kiddo?” Usually Tim was the one bleeding when those two were in the same room.

His Highness graced her with a scowl (He was so cute with his little chipmunk cheeks!) and rolled his eyes, holding his hand out in her direction. She could make out something small and white on his palm.

“Damian, is that your-”

“It’s his tooth.” Tim said, tone flat in that way it always was when he was having a minor freak out. “He just reached in there and pulled it out.”

Damian looked between them, nonplussed. “Of course I did, it was becoming loose.”

Tim pinched the bridge of his nose, his eyes squinched shut and Steph took pity on them both.

“It usually works better if you let them come out on their own Damian.” She said gently. “It bleeds less and hurts less that way.”

She tried not to let her heart break at the expression of confusion on his face, instead forcing a grin. “At least you can leave it for the tooth fairy now!”

“The what?”

* * *

**Minute**

Time - 0223 

O001: Batgirl? Batgirl? Can you hear me? Batgirl?

_Com BG003 unresponsive_

O001: Batgirl, are you there?

BB005: I am almost there.

Time – 0224

BB005: Hey Boss-Lady! Its BG, I’m fine, the explosion knocked my com out, I might have a concussion, but I’m a-okay! I’m gonna give Black Bat hers back now, she’s giving me that look. I’m rambling aren’t I? I am definitely concussed. Concussions suck, and according to my psych professor repeated concussive incidents are very likely linked to early onset Alzheimer’s. I’ve been learning all sorts of things in that class that make me think we have some serious issues, I mean, more than the obvious-

Black Bat, I will bring Batgirl to the Clock Tower. She requires medical attention for minor injuries.

_Com BB005 disconnected_

_Com BC002 connected_

BC002: Hey, do you need help over there, that was a pretty big boom. The girls okay?

Time – 0225

O001: Resume normal patrol route Canary, everything is fine. Could you cover the south side of Batgirl’s territory tonight?

BC002: Sure thing O. See you later? Remember you still owe me coffee.

O001: I remember. There is a break in at a jewelry store on 6th and Crowne, sixty seconds from your current position.

BC002: Well diamonds are a girl’s best friends. Canary out.

_Com BC002 disconnected_

Time - 0226

* * *

**Cheat**

“Screw this!”

Jason threw the marker across the room, earning himself a raised eyebrow from Alfred. Unrepentant, Jason pointed at Cass.

“This isn’t fair! It has to be cheating for her to be playing charades without some sort of handicap!”

Damian just gave him a smug look, retrieving the marker and writing the score down himself. “I believe our team now leads six to zero, Todd.”

* * *

**Judo**

“And over.”

There was a thump and a cheer and Oracle looked up from her screen to the mat where Stephanie, her hair bundled into a messy bun was enthusiastically celebrating her successful throw by jumping up and down chanting the lyrics to “We Will Rock You”.

Cass looked a little bemused, but slid gracefully to her feet. “Good. Now again.”

Steph broke off her jubilation and groaned, but moved into position to repeat the drill.

Babs smiled and turned back to the screen, Dinah and Helena were debating the merits of different home security systems over the coms and that was something of a specialty of hers after all.

* * *

**Paper Bag**

Steph heard the bang and Tim’s shriek from all the way down stairs. By the time she made it up to his room, the only evidence of what had happened was a red-faced Tim covered in coffee, the mug rolled under his desk, and Cass laughing so hard she was sitting on the floor beside the crumpled remains of a brown paper bag that gave evidence of having been inflated and burst suddenly.

She smiled and left them to it. Hopefully she could make it to the cave and get a copy of the security footage before Tim realized he should erase it.

* * *

**Satellite**

Clark could hear the grinding of Bruce’s teeth as the billionaire glared at him.

“Um,” he shrugged sheepishly. “I’m sorry?”

“You destroyed my satellite.” Bruce ground out, his scowl darkening even further. “It was brand new and you couldn’t even wait a few weeks.”

“But it was for a noble cause.” Clark defended. “Without that satellite-“

“I. Don’t. Care.” Bruce growled, his knuckles white around his glass of expensive alcohol. “Next time throw yourself in front of the meteor if necessary but stop. Breaking. WayneTech.”

* * *

**Crash**

Batgirl cocked her head to the side and examined the smoking mess for a long moment before turning to Red Robin.

“I’m telling Oracle it’s your fault.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Tooth" has exploded and will be expanded into its own story, if you are interested in the adventures of Damian Wayne attempting to trap the tooth fairy.  
> It should be up before too long.  
> Also, if anyone is interested, the teams for charades in "Cheat" were  
> Bruce, Dick, Cass, and Damian vs Babs, Jason, Tim, and Steph


	4. Word Generator 4

**Shelf**

Tim glares at the top shelf, three inches above his reach.

Jason put the coffee up there on purpose.

* * *

**Goose**

“No.”

Damian pout-glares up at him, the bird clutched in his arms. “But-“

“No.” Dick repeats, feeling a headache coming on. “You have more than enough pets already and Bat-Cub would probably eat it anyway.”

The tiger, no longer as small as she once was, simply remains crouched on the front steps, eyes fixed on the large white bird, her tail lashing from side to side.

* * *

**Spade**

Batgirl grins at the thugs groaning on the ground, leaning on the weapon of mass construction she’d used to take them down.

“You know, having a girl dig her own grave is just tacky, boys.”

* * *

**Gossip**

When Barbara heard that Tim had apparently eloped with Superboy, she decided finding the source of that rumor was probably a good idea since last she’d heard Tim and Steph were cautiously rekindling their relationship.

She’d been told by Huntress, and from there she traced it back through Dove, Hawk, Firestorm, Green Lantern, (Guy Gardner edition) Beast Boy, Kid Flash, (Bart had to be trolling) Supergirl, Batgirl…

She groaned and dropped her forehead onto her keyboard. This was the last time she mentioned mission assignments to Batgirl. Somehow, in a twisted game of Telephone, Red Robin and Superboy had gone from busting a drug dealer in Reno to getting married in Reno.

She doesn’t even want to know how. (Probably has to do with Bart Allen. Brat.)

(She does make a mental note to forward the mistake to Tim though, he’ll be horrified and Superboy will get a kick out of it.)

* * *

**TV** _**(Because Jason, despite being single, ends up with more kids than any two of his siblings put together.)**_

Jason sighs and decides discretion is the better part of valor. If Sasha, Catie, and the others want to watch Dancing with the Stars, they’ll watch Dancing with the Stars.

He slips out the door towards the kitchen. Of course he’s the one who ended up with a houseful of girls (and Ethan, who’s so quiet and unassuming and, frankly, adorable, that he isn’t much help battling the aggressive estrogen, even for a three year old.) Replacement’s probably laughing his ass off.

* * *

**Dish**

Stephanie swears that Alfred the Cat is actually Alfred in his secret shape-shifting form because the feline is giving her The Look over the shattered remains of the hundred year old platter she’d knocked off the wall.

Come to think of it has anyone ever seen Alfred the Cat and Alfred the Butler in the same room at the same time?

* * *

**Recipe**

1 Nightwing

1 Red Hood

1 Red Robin

16 bullets

½ Stick of Dynamite

4 oz C4

3 Drug Dealers

2 Tanks of Orange Paint

Place ingredients in abandoned warehouse, shake well and serve

Disaster is often better if served with a side of Chaos.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There shall be a story to explain Bat-Cub


	5. ilovelocust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has ten words prompts instead of seven, but I don't think any of you will mind!  
> Prompts provided by ilovelocust! Thank you so much and I hope you like them.

**Halloween**

_**(** **Takes place on Earth-934, Halloween 2015. There are no OCs, just interpretations of cannon characters.)** _

“Come on Bruce!”

Bruce stoically ignored his eldest’s wheedling, allowing only a brief reflection on the thought that twenty-four was too old to be “wheedling” in the first place.

“Think of the children Bruce! You don’t want to crush their hopes and dreams!”

He looked up from his papers, determinedly blocking out the fact that his son was wearing green body paint.

“I am not going to dress up as Superman and parade around Bristol _again,_ Dick.” He said firmly. “Surely the pictures from three other Halloweens are enough.” (It had been once each for Dick, Jason, and Tim. All at Dick’s insistence.)

Dick gave him a hurt look. “Bruce! You can’t be Superman. Colin is Superman.” He grinned. There was a smear of green on his teeth from the paint. “It’s adorable actually, Dami insists on a trench coat with his Batman costume, but it’s still almost exactly like watching you and Clark in miniature.” He pouted. “Come on! The Birds of Prey have the city tonight, we even convinced Jason to participate, and,” the stern look Bruce received gave him a sharp reminder that Dick had worn the cape and cowl for a year, and done well with them. “You have all your kids, plus a couple extras, downstairs, dressed as the Justice League, waiting for you.” He tossed a bag at Bruce’s face. “Get dressed and hurry up!”

Bruce groaned and looked warily at the bag. A throaty chuckle from behind him alerted him to Selina’s presence, even as she peeked around his shoulder. “Don’t worry handsome.” She winked and his brain short-circuited as he noticed the Black Canary costume, complete with blonde wig, she was wearing. “It won’t be too painful. And I’ll make it worth your while.” She dropped a kiss on his cheek and waved one of Helena’s chubby little fists at him as she carried the infant, dressed in a Robin onesie, cape included, with her, following Dick downstairs.

Bruce opened the bag with a sinking feeling of dread. He was pretty sure he knew what costume his family had selected for him this year. Maybe he should have stayed lost in time.

* * *

**“Watch This”**

_**(aka Halloween: Part Two)** _

He gritted his teeth against the wolf-whistle he was greeted with when he stepped into the kitchen.

“Lookin’ good, Bruce!” Jason, dressed as a Green Lantern, was leaning against a counter-top, and Bruce thought he must have been hallucinating Jason acknowledging his presence in some way that didn’t involve explosives. He eventually decided to just accept it as one of many oddities of the night and move on.

Tim at least looked as miserable as he felt, perched awkwardly on one of the kitchen chairs, fidgeting in the red material of what Bruce was pretty sure was one of the actual Flash suits, Stephanie hovering behind him, cheerfully swinging her plastic mace and forcing people to duck to avoid her wings. Damian and his friend were huddled in a corner, whispering fervently with each other. The poor kid looked rather out of place with his Superman costume made out of a retail Superman shirt and blue pants with a blanket-cape, but didn’t seem to care as he poked Damian in the Bat-symbol, an act that, had anyone else attempted it, they would have likely ended up bleeding.

“Grampa Bruce!”

His vision was suddenly obscured by a blur of green, black, blue, red, and white, as Mar’i floated up in front of his face, her solid green eyes glowing in her face which was painted to match her father’s.

“Look! I’m Miss Martian! And I can fly! Watch this!” She twirled, her short blue cape and long, purple-touched black curls flying into his face. He was rescued by Cassandra, who tugged the little girl down to earth and fastened the familiar, silver charm bracelet around her wrist, which resulted in her skin tone melting into something with a little less orange, her eyes turning human, and the purple fading from her hair.

“You can’t fly outside.” Cass (dressed as Wonder Woman) reminded her.

Mar’i pouted. “But Martians can fly.”

Dick swooped in and swept his daughter up onto his shoulders. “Yeah, but humans can’t, not like that. And you have to pretend to be human on Earth, remember.”

Mar’i continued to pout, but agreed, and was soon all smiles as Alfred snapped pictures and hustled them out the door, Damian and Colin promptly taking charge and hurrying them all to the mini-van that Selina had insisted they procure for occasions such as these.

Bruce sighed, adjusted the bow that was slung over his shoulder, and followed.

* * *

**Vacation**

“I just feel like this is a trap.” Dick admitted. “Like as soon as I relax I’m going to get a call that the Joker broke out of Arkham or Bruce got kidnapped by a crazed socialite or something.”

Babs laughed and pulled him down onto the beach towel beside her.

“Forget all that for now, Hunk Wonder. We earned this.”

* * *

**Tipsy**

Bruce usually avoided drinking at these events, despite the appearances he gave of being completely intoxicated, but this ball was exceptionally dull and was being hosted by one of his distant Kane cousins so he couldn’t exactly slip out early, or even hide by surrounding himself with bimbos. At some point in the evening everything became a bit of a blur and he didn’t really remember what happened until Dick showed him the video he’d caught of Bruce hanging onto Alfred’s arm proclaiming his undying love for the butler’s cookies and how they should invite Superman over to have some because that’s what friends were for.

* * *

**Cult**

“How is this my fault?” Robin knew he was whining and didn’t really care. Speedy and Kid Flash were both glaring at him from where they were chained to the opposite wall of the stereotypical dungeon cell they were all in.

“Because you are the one who always gets kidnapped.” Speedy pointed out. “This sort of thing didn’t happen to any of us until we started hanging out with you.”

Kid Flash nodded so fast that his face blurred and when he spoke there was a bit of buzz to his voice. “Yeah, your bad luck is rubbing off on us or something.”

The door opened to reveal the hooded leader of the cult, who stood in his long purple robe and spoke in what he probably thought was an intimidating voice. “It is time for the sacrif-”

He collapsed unceremoniously to the ground, revealing Wonder Girl and a rather dehydrated looking Aqualad behind him. Donna flew over his prone body and snapped the manacles off of Kid Flash and Speedy as Robin finished picking the locks on his own.

Garth rolled his eyes at all of them. “Perhaps next time you guys are kidnapped by a crazy cult you could _not_ be imprisoned in the desert fortress.”

* * *

**Poke**

Really, the only reason Steph thinks she got away with it was because Damian was somewhat in shock that she would dare. And she ran right after. That probably helped too.

* * *

**Movies**

Jason grins as Replacement glares at him.

“You got us thrown out of a _movie theater_.” He flails his hands, trying to depict his disbelief. “What were you even-”

Dickie draws up level with them and throws an arm over Tim’s shoulder, practically forcing him to stop the flailing. Demon Brat is on his other side, scowling as he’s tugged along by Dick’s hand on his shoulder. “Guess this means we’re taking movie night to the penthouse for the foreseeable future.”

* * *

**Winning**

Gotham wasn’t exactly known for its quiet nights, but Selina thought that the symphony of traffic and sirens combined with the near silent click of her claws over the roofs, nearly obscured by the slightly heavier tread of her pursuer, had its own sort of charm.

The bracelet on her wrist glinted and she smirked. Maybe another block or two before she let him catch her.

* * *

**Family**

Milly huffed and dropped onto the bench with a sigh. Kristin had just texted to let her know that the flight had been delayed on the runway and there would be at least another two hours before she arrived in Gotham. She loved her daughter dearly, but spending two hours sitting in baggage claim sounded like hell on earth.

“Cassie!”

She looked up in time to see a young man sweep a girl up and spin her around, laughing, as both of them were swamped by half a dozen other young people. Hugs were exchanged and a duffel bag was pulled from the baggage carousel before the group made their way out of the building, cheerfully debating where to go for lunch.

Milly couldn’t help but smile. It had been awhile since she was able to just people-watch. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all.

* * *

**“Eeeeek!”**

“It ran over my feet.”

Barbara didn’t bother to look up to where Dick was perched on the back of her wheelchair, somehow managing not to flip them in one of his gravity-defying feats.

“Poor you.”

“Baaaabs. The mouse ran over my foot. Shouldn’t you be a bit more sympathetic?”

Babs just rolled her eyes. “My heart bleeds.”


	6. Quinis - PI AU + Extras

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to Quinis for the prompts!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like this could also be called "The 'No' Chapter"

**_These first few take place in a Justice League Private Detective Agency AU that Quinis and I have been tossing back and forth._ **

**_***_ **

**_Lost_ **

“What are you doing?”

Wally looked up, wiping at the grease smeared across his face. “I dropped the report down behind the engine.”

Dick took a moment to consider his life choices and remind himself that his best friend was actually very competent at what he did. Usually.

“Don’t worry, I’ll have it out in a moment.”

* * *

**Money**

“Pleeeeeeeese?”

“No.”

“Robin, come on!”

Tim glared up at the pilot leaning over his desk. “No. You do not need a new helicopter,” the teenager repeated. “No the agency is not going to pay for one.

* * *

**Flying**

Bruce glared.

“But Bruce-”

“No.”

“Please?”

“No. Get out.”

Dick pouted as he exited the helicopter, but Bruce didn’t stop glaring at the other man in the aircraft.

Jordan gave his best winning smile. “Come on Bats, what’s the harm?”

Bruce ignored him, shepherding his ward back into the agency and off the roof. “If you wish, I will procure flying lessons for you when you are old enough,” He said brusquely. “But not with Hal Jordan.”

He silently cursed the boy’s need to fly in every way known to man.

* * *

**Distinguishable**

“We aren’t interchangeable you know.” Tim grumbled. “They need to stop _looking_ at me like that. I’m not Dick, I’m not Jason. I’m a completely different Robin."

Conner just nodded silently. It was better not to say anything when Tim was in one of his moods.

* * *

**Odd**

There were many words to describe the people affiliated with the League of Justice Private Detective Agency.

Alfred Pennyworth tended to refer to them as “dedicated,” with _that_ tone that implied so much he seldom said in so many words.

Martha Kent didn’t call them anything. She just made sure to stop by with home cooked meals whenever she was in the city.

Iris West-Allen called them interesting. Lois Lane called them mysterious. The police called them a variety of things, some of them not so flattering.

The kids called them family.

The rest of the city just called them synonyms of weird, strange, and odd.

* * *

**Pet**

Bruce glared as he fished his new ward out of the cluster of cooing adults.

“Bruce! Bruce! Bruce!” Dick grinned up at him. “Is it true that you’re nicknamed Batman? I want a nickname! I know what it can be too!”

Allen laughed, “Never would have pegged you as the type for kids, Bats.”

Bruce glared harder and the younger man wilted a little.

“He can be our mascot!” Jordan cheered, dropping into the chair behind his desk, blinking in what looked like shock as Bruce made sure to turn the full force of his “Bat-Glare” (Yes Jordan, Allen, he knew about that) on the pilot.

He pushed Dick the slightest bit behind him. “He is not. A. Pet.”

As he hustled Dick out the door (Alfred would not be pleased if he was late to school) he heard Jordan stage-whisper behind him. “Oh yeah, he is totally our mascot.”

* * *

_**These are not from the Detective AU. Most of them are Earth-934 compliant though.** _

_******* _

**Red** _**(I kinda cheated for this one. I made it “R(etired)E(xtremely)D(dangerous)” instead of the color. Hope you don't mind, Quinis!)** _

Detective John Blake remembered the first time he’d met his first partner’s foster father. He’d been terrified of the man then too, but for completely different reasons. This time, he felt extremely justified. Mr. Wayne, who was nearing seventy, looked like he’d happily rip the head off the next person to come within glaring distance of his grandkids. His capability to do so was proven by the pile of unconscious and semi-conscious wannabe kidnappers his unis and new, rookie partner were sorting through while he, as senior officer on the scene, got to approach the cranky (extremely wealthy and powerful) senior citizen who had not yet surrendered his Taser cane for evidence.

He was saved by the arrival of his aforementioned former partner who hurried up, closely followed by Wayne’s teenage...son? Assistant?, and made a beeline for what John was abruptly reminded were his grandchildren too. “Soraya! Thomas!”

Two little black-haired heads popped out from behind Mr. Wayne and the owners of said heads almost immediately launched themselves at Dick, (excuse me, “Lt. Grayson”) chattering away about how Grandpa Bruce saved them from the bad men.

Terry McGinnis assessed the whole scene in an efficient manner that would have caused anyone who hadn’t spent the past twenty years in fairly frequent contact with the Wayne/Grayson/Drake-Wayne clan to raise an eyebrow. “Nice work.” The teen managed to keep his usual sarcasm under control. (He hadn’t bothered when John was booking him for vandalism last month.) “Guess you are officially RED. after this.”

Mr. Wayne scowled at the boy. “RED?”

Terry and Dick exchanged looks over Sora and Tommy’s heads.

“Movie night!”

* * *

**Waste**

Tim rather thought Cass was taking “waste not, want not” to the extreme when she chased Killer Croc into the sewers to retrieve his bird-a-rang.

* * *

**Solid**

“Don’t you dare let go Todd!” Robin growled up at the man keeping him from plummeting to his death.

“You kidding?” Red Hood grunted, straining to hold onto both the squirming boy and the roof. “I’d never get another moment’s peace between Big Bird’s pouting and Agent A’s disapproval.

* * *

**Belong**

Damian stifled a groan as the “midnight alarm” went off. He reluctantly opened his eyes. Beside him, his wife did not stifle her own groan. He briefly debated with himself before hauling himself out of bed with a grunt. “I’ll get him.” The nursery was only across the hall and Damian elected to forge his habitual fastidiousness and leave his dressing robe on the chair where it hung. His brothers would be proud.

“Shhhhh.” He murmured, lifting his son and heir, still sobbing quietly, (not like his sister, who had screamed her lungs out every time) from the crib. “Let’s get you to your mother and get you fed, little Robin.”

He winced as he absently used his father-in-law’s nickname for his son. The last infant they had caught Richard calling “Little Robin" had been JT and Helena before that, though not as often. Barbara had said he’d even called Mar’i “Robin” once or twice, but only when he wasn’t really thinking and forgot to stop himself. Damian didn’t know how, but the man seemed to have a second sense for it.

As he lowered Thomas into Mar’i’s arms to be fed, he didn’t bother suppressing the warm feeling in his chest. He was at home with his family.

All was well with the world.


	7. Word Generator 5, With Quinis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So, I sent Quinis this list of words and she wrote them too! Go check it out!  
> http://archiveofourown.org/works/4043953

**Hunt**

As much fun as it was watching Replacement tiptoe around as paranoid as a long-tailed cat (Heh. Cat.) in a room full of rocking chairs, Jason was rather relieved when Alfred finally declared Bat-Cub to be too big to be allowed in the manor anymore and banned her to her stable outside. He’d almost shot her last time she’d pounced on him and he really didn’t want to deal with Demon’s sulking and Goldie’s reproachful looks.

* * *

**Skin**

“It’s not funny.” Tim growled, trying and failing not to scratch.

Dick was laughing too hard to stop and Cass just looked confused.

Damian smirked. “Of course it is not funny, Drake. It is…hilarious.” And stalked off.

The favor he owed Todd for providing the itching powder was more than worth it.

* * *

**Hook**

Steph glared at the hardware that had fallen off her wall.

She just wanted to hang up her coat! Was that too much to ask?

* * *

**Sanity**

“Jason!”

Jason looks up from his book to where Dick has just burst through his door, probably damaging it in the process. He sighs. He’s gotten really good at small home repair since getting back on speaking terms with “The Family.” “What’s wrong, Goldie? You look like you’ve seen a ghost. Other than me.”

Despite the panic on his face, Dickie-bird takes the time to give him a reproachful look for his flippancy. “Damian’s been kidnapped.”

Jason raises an eyebrow in the way he learned from watching Alfred. “Poor morons. Wonder how long before we get Red Chief back.”

Now the First Former Boy Wonder just looks confused. “Red Chief?”

Jason snorts and throws a pencil at Dick’s face. Dick dodges. “Don’t you read? O’Henry? Short stories? Ring a bell?”

Dick frowns. “Is that the guy that writes all those little depressing stories, like that couple that got each other Christmas presents?”

“Yes, that’s the one.” Jason rolls his eyes and points to his bookshelf. “Read _The Ransom of Red Chief_ when you get the chance.”

Dick honest-to-god _growls_ at him. “I don’t have time. Damian. Has. Been. Kidnapped. Come. On.”

Jason sighs again and slides a bookmark into _To Kill a Mockingbird_. (It’s a hardcover copy and he isn’t going to ruin the binding, thank you very much.)

What does it say about his not-family that he’s the sane one?

* * *

**Picture**

As they are about to head out the door, Tim turns around and points an accusing finger at Dick, who is looking far too amused by the situation. “Just so you know, I’m sending you my therapy bills.” He forcefully takes Jason’s tuxedoed arm and stomps out, accompanied by the swish of his skirts and click of his heels.

Damian gleefully snaps another photo.

* * *

 **Injury** _**(Feel free to consider this a sequel to Skin, and Picture even.** **.** **)**_

Tim gave his blandest, board-of-directors smile and leaned on the door frame as casually as possible in a suit and tie. “Having trouble?”

Damian glared at him as he struggled with the sleeves of his favorite hoodie, the cuffs neatly sealed shut with superglue. “This is your fault.” He hissed. “I shall inform Pennyworth of your actions.”

Tim’s smile didn’t change in the least as he leaned in. “Do that and I’ll tell him about those cats you’re feeding out your window.” Without waiting to assess the effectiveness of his threat, he left the room and headed downstairs. He ran into Cass in the hallway and she eyed him curiously.

“You’re…smug. What were you doing.”

Tim allowed his Janet Drake Smirk ™ to show. “Adding insult.”

* * *

**Bath**

When they fished Damian out of the harbor he was dripping like a kitten and just as spitting mad.


	8. Latin Phrases, With Quinis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I decided to branch out a little with this one. Quinis wrote a story for the phrases used as well, check it out either on her page or in my "Gifts" section!

**Quid Pro Quo**

**_"Something for something" in Latin, means an exchange of goods or services, where one transfer is contingent upon the other._ **

***

The working relationship that developed between Red Hood and Red Robin baffled most people. They were very effective and between them they had made incredible progress towards cleaning up their overlapping territories in and around Crime Alley. Fortunately, Red Robin seemed to have an inability to allow minor things like previous murder attempts to impede The Mission.

* * *

**Rara Avis**

**_Literally translates as “A rare bird.” Used to indicate a rare, valuable, or unique person or thing._ **

***

Tim and Barbara made sure to monitor the “Bat-watching” and “Birdwatching” groups and forums. Sometimes those people managed to get photos or videos that could be dangerous, and not all of them were as discrete as a pre-teen Tim had been.

* * *

**Sine Die**

**_“Without a day”. Used to indicate dismissal without a planned time for reconvening. Usually used in a legal context._ **

***

They never set dates for get-togethers. There was too much that couldn’t be predicted. The state of affairs in Gotham or Atlantis. Roy being on planet. Wally and Donna not being dead or in a different time or dimension.

They just did their best to come together when they could.

* * *

**Annus Mirabilis**

**_Literally translates as “Year of Wonders” or “Year of Miracles.” Used to indicate an eventful year._ **

***

Dick Grayson took a moment to look back as he stood, forgotten for the moment, beneath the fresh greenery that Alfred had hung over the window.

In the course of a year they had lost Bruce and now might have gotten him back. More and more evidence points to Tim being right. Tim, who had left and come back, all grown up. Cass had returned, Stephanie had come back from the dead, Helena had been born. He and Damian had come to an understanding and truly become “The Dynamic Duo” in their own way and right. Alfred’s daughter had joined them. (Alfred _had a daughter_.)

Whether Bruce was alive or not, Mar’i should be home soon.

It hadn’t always been a good year, but it had been a remarkable one.

* * *

**Sub Rosa**

_**Literally translates as “Under the Roses.” Used to describe something, such as a meeting, carried out in secret.** _

***

When the shadows of the alley materialized into something more solid, Selina pushed her goggles up to the top of her head and dropped silently to the cobblestones. With the same, liquid movements as her namesake, she drew up level with the shoulder of the hunched figure kneeling in the filth of the Gotham back-way. He was taking it hard this year, loosing Robin like he had must have made the anniversary of his parents’ murder even more painful.

She didn’t say a word, just stuck close as he laid the roses. At the end of the ritual they perched side-by-side on the roof in silence for several minutes before parting ways, not a sound in the going.

Selina took off for the East End. Tonight felt like a good night for beating up muggers and wife beaters. Crowne Memorial Jewelers could wait.

* * *

**Magnum Opus**

**_From the Latin “Great Work” meaning someone’s greatest accomplishment. Usually used in reference to art, music, or literature._ **

***

“Dad. Dad, wake up.”

Someone was poking his face.

Dick Grayson opened his eyes with a groan to be greeted by the blurry image of his daughter wearing a domino mask. He frowned as he blinked, trying to bring the world into focus around the pain in his head. Mar’i was pushed to the side by a bright yellow blur topped with red and a cheerful voice was speaking far too loudly in his ear.

“He’s concussed, but it doesn’t look too bad. He should be fine.”

Carefully, Dick pushed himself up so that he was sitting, leaning against the wall rather than lying on the bench. His vision cleared a little and he blinked at his surroundings in surprise.

He was in the Robin-plane that Damian had built for himself after he’d been practically forced into the Teen Titans, wearing civvies, and his daughter and god-daughter were crouching in front of him, Irey with her cowl down and Mar’i…Why was she in what looked like a conglomeration of Damian, his own, and Stephanie’s Robin uniforms? Why was she even here?

He looked around. Colin waved awkwardly from where he was perched on the opposite bench. Lian strode into his view, her arms crossed and a stubborn look on her face that he was far too familiar with. Silently, they stared at each other for a long moment, Dick peripherally aware of a green glow outside the window indicating that Milagro at least was flying alongside. Probably Superboy as well. Lian broke first. She was good, but she didn’t have Dick’s training or experience. Yet.

“She stowed away, we didn’t bring her on purpose. But we’re keeping her.”

Dick raised an eyebrow, ignoring the pain throbbing in the side of his head.

Lian scowled. “She did good and Damian says he’s alright with her becoming Robin.”

That was a surprise. “What?”

A familiar tut came from the pilot’s seat. “Don’t be ridiculous, Grayson.” The chair swiveled and Dick was faced with the stubborn countenance of _his_ Robin, wearing not his uniform but a combination of his old League outfit and the simple, unmarked black armor that Alfred kept in storage. At not quite seventeen, Damian was already taller than Dick and just as broad in the shoulders. It made patrolling with him a little odd at times. “It is time both for me to move on and for her to step up, we could not have accomplished what we did without her.” It looked like it physically pained him to say that.

Dick opened his mouth to say what he had been telling himself and Bruce and Babs and Mar’i for more than two years, all the reasons why not, but Damian cut him off.

“She played a valuable role in our mission to save both the world and yourself. Your arguments are invalid.” And turned back to the controls.

Lian nodded sharply, every inch the leader she was fast becoming. “What he said.”

_It was the parents’ curse. He just knew it. And he was getting it twice over.  
_

* * *

**Persona Non Grata**

_**Literally means “an unwelcome person”. And that’s pretty much it. Often has “In the doghouse” connotations**_.

 "I'm trying." Damian glared at Titus' collar as he picked at it. "I really am. But I'll never be good enough for him, will I."

Titus whuffled.


	9. Word Generator 6

**Banana**

“I hate you.”

Replacement blinked at him, innocence radiating blandly from every pore as he tapped over the medical notes on his tablet. Jason wished his ribs didn’t hurt so badly so he could get up and slug the creep’s smug little face. He just knew that there were copies of the security footage being sent where he’d never be able to find and delete them all. Stupid Replacement. And they said _he_ was the evil Robin.

“Why? I’m not the one who left the banana peel on the stairs.”

* * *

**Empire**

“Dick was saying something about how he’s waiting for us to take over the world.” Tim sipped at his coffee and tapped out a few more lines on the report he was finishing, peering at Babs over the top of his laptop and glasses.

Barbara smiled at him, her face lit green by her many screens, her own lenses reflecting the surfaces back and mostly obscuring her eyes. “It’s cute how he thinks we haven’t already.” 

* * *

**Paperclip**

“What’s with these?” Steph poked at the chain of bent and battered paperclips that had obviously been hanging off of Dick’s old backpack for years. She was a little surprised at the sad expression that came over his face as he reached around to rub the pieces of metal.

“They’re for my _puri daj,_ her family anyway, and my aunt’s.” He said softly, running them through his fingers, one after another. "Mostly my aunt's."

 _One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen._

* * *

 

**Ceiling**

Alfred glanced up and felt his heart skip a beat at the figure perched precariously in the chandelier, absorbed in a book. This child was going to be the death of him.

* * *

 

**Caffeine**

When Batgirl slipped through the window of one of Red Hood's safe houses she was not expecting to be met with the sight of all four of "The Boys" comfortably sprawled around, eating junk food. (And the sight of Dick "sprawling" in the Batsuit would never not be funny. She would treasure this sight forever.) Jason, who had shot at her the last (the first) time their paths had crossed merely waved her in with an "Oi, Replacement! your girlfriend's here!"

Tim replied in chorus with her "She's/I'm not my/his girlfriend." And they were echoed by Dick who tossed a cheerful "right now" at them with a mischievous twinkle in his eye. This, Stephanie realized, was not the Batman who'd tried to stop her from being Batgirl. This was much closer to the Nightwing that Tim idolized like a big brother.

She thinks she could like Nightwing.

Then Red Hood throws a bag of chips at Tim's face and he throws it back and there is no blood-shed. She needs more coffee to be able to deal with this at three AM. Fortunately, they seem to have a few pots brewed already. 

* * *

 

**Ketchup**

"You are a horrible human being, Replacement." Jason watched the atrocity before him with horror. "How do you even live with yourself?"

Tim just sighed and put the bottle back in the refrigerator. "Lots of people eat ketchup on their hot dogs, Jason." 

* * *

**Hardware**

Bruce noticed the habit right away but said nothing. He figured it didn't really need addressing. It caused no problems, quite the opposite in fact.

Alfred noticed even sooner. He wasn't surprised, just saddened and made sure to always have hot chocolate with marshmallows waiting.

Barbara commented on it. Once, before she knew his identity. She never did after though, just made sure to leave her gear where he could find it easily.

Jason had gotten to the Cave early one night and had been surprised to see him there at all. He'd watched the entire time, and watched as he'd left before Bruce came downstairs.

Tim just watched and understood, as he always did.

Cassandra saw more than anyone else. She saw the memories, good and bad, the pain and the joy. Most of all she saw the love that went into each touch. Love for those lost and those gained. She just shrugged when Stephanie asked her why there were tears in her eyes.

Stephanie never experienced it until she was Batgirl. She thought at first that it was another way he thought she was incompetent until Barbara explained it to her. For the first time she felt truly accepted.

Damian was wildly indignant and railed about it until Alfred calmed him down and explained. Then he was silent for a moment before he stomped off, muttering under his breath about "sentimental Grayson," but he never made any move to prevent it again and years later, when Talya and Thomas came to him complaining that Grandpa Dick was checking their lines and didn't he _know_ that they knew how? He taught them himself after all? Damian was able to give a simple, honest answer.

"It's because he loves you and doesn't want you to fall."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For explanation on Paperclip, go here. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Paper_Clips_Project  
> And I highly recommend the documentary. Warning for Holocaust-centered topic.


	10. Word Generator 7 (I wrote a lot of word stories while I was internet free, okay!)

**Catastrophe**

"You have got to do something about that...that...animal!" Tim growled, pointing out to the stables where Bat-Cub lazed in the sun. "It ate my presentation _and_ my laptop!"

 

**Chimpanzee**

Dick pinched the bridge of his nose and prayed for patience. "Dami, give the chimpanzee to the nice animal control lady. I think Alfred would have an aneurism if you brought home another pet."

He ignored the grumble of "You'd let me keep it if it were an elephant" in favor of giving the chimp a wide birth. He severely disliked monkeys. And apes. Anything monkey-like.

 

**Basket**

**( _Crossover with Grimm. Of sorts. Explanation in notes for anyone who won't get_ _it.)_**

"You don't have to be so smug." Tim muttered, glaring up at Jason and Damian. "You were both up there too."

Jason slung an arm over Tim's shoulder. "But you see, Tiny Tim, Damian and I acknowledge that we have been bad this year. You are supposed to be the _good_ child."

Tim, tiny indeed, ducked from Jason's grip with a Bat-Glare that, while impressive and downright terrifying on a seventeen year old, only managed to make ten year old Tim look adorable. More adorable. "S'not funny."

Ten year old Dick, bouncing around Steph and Cass, who were still adults, grinned a wide, bright grin. "Good thing Selina asked Ivy about the tallest tree for us, or we wouldn't have found you in time."

Cass ruffled his hair and Steph grinned back. "And a good thing you knew what had taken them."

Dick smiled and bounced some more, ignoring Jason's mutters of "Of course Golden Boy would know about anti-Santa."

"Tante Zita used to warn us about _Krampus._ " He said cheerfully, latching onto Damian's arm and swinging from it. (Damian, like the girls, had not encountered the villain that had resulted in the older boy's...age situation and so remained thirteen, leaving him the tallest and heaviest by a significant margin.) "I just thought it was a story she used to make all us kids behave. I never thought that it was real. Not once I got bigger anyway."

"Wish I had my guns." Jason growled. "Then it wouldn't have gotten away like that."

Before _that_ could break out into an argument, Stephanie interrupted with a cheerful, "So what did we learn from this adventure, boys?"

"Don't get de-aged two days before Christmas." Tim said glumly.

 

**Snore**

_**(Both Snore and Thief are specifically from Earth-934)** _

"I do _not_ snore."

"Actually, you do." Grayson chimed in. "Not as loud as Jason, but you do snore."

Damian glared at his plate, pushing the curry around with his fork. Grayson refused to refrain from...flirting with his wife while he was in residence. It was ridiculous. He picked up his plate and made for the living room. He could eat in peace there as Grayson and Oracle became more and more absorbed in their...argument.

 

**Thief**

"I'd forgotten how uncomfortable this is." Selina said ruefully, stretching with her hands on the small of her back. "And what kind of thief can't execute her own heist?"

"The kind that is eight months pregnant with her second child." Nightwing's voice said over the comm. "Which is why the Justice League just asked her to _plan_ it."

Selina couldn't help but smile. "Go knock 'em dead, Bat-Chick. Both our reputations are riding on this."

"Are you kidding? You reputation is well established! You stole Batman's heart."

 

**Robot**

No one ventured into the corner of the Cave that Damian had claimed for tinkering in. One of the first things he'd done was re-purpose part of the Manor's discarded defense systems. The others preferred to avoid being attacked by a giant, killer robot.

 

**Cripple**

Barbara dashed away tears as she returned to the screen. She didn't know how much time passed before she felt strong, gentle hands catch hold of her own. "Woah, Boss Lady. You okay?"

Dinah was there, blue eyes concerned. Having her standing over her was the last straw though and Barbara snapped. "I don't know." she yanked her hands away. "Maybe you should ask yourself that. You're the one taking orders from a cripple."

Dinah's face darkened immediately. "That Armstrong woman was here, wasn't she." It wasn't a question.

Barbara felt very small and crossed her arms and said nothing. Dinah dropped to sit cross-legged on the floor beside her. "You can't let her get to you. She's jealous."

Barbara snorted and realized with a sort of detached surprise that there were tears running down her face. "What does she have to be jealous of? She's an intelligent, powerful woman with two working legs."

Dinah laid a hand on her knee. "What _doesn't_ she have to be jealous of? You're an intelligent, powerful woman who makes a _difference_ , and has a loving family, a drop-dead gorgeous boyfriend who worships the ground you roll on and a whole host of friends who _care_ about you and _trust_ you. What does she have in comparison to that?"

Barbara gave her a watery smile. "How do you always know the right thing to say?"

Dinah winked. "Florist. We're better than bartenders."

They laughed for a good long while, so hard that both of them had to wipe more tears from their eyes. When they had calmed down, Dinah rose to her feet and gave Babs' hand a clasp. "In all seriousness, think about it. Which of the two of you is truly crippled?"

She did think about it. She thought about it as she directed twelve people through five firefights and sixteen chases. She thought about it as she located a terrorist cell using internet traces. She thought of it as she spoke with her father to arrange a dinner date for that evening (she had some news that he deserved to know before it was announced) and she thought about it as she fingered the brand-new chain around her neck and felt the small ring resting just underneath her shirt.

"Who really _is_ the cripple, Katarina?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Krampus, both in general and in Grimm:  
> http://grimm.wikia.com/wiki/Krampus  
> https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Krampus  
> And no, no I didn't make a terrible pun with the first one in this chapter. Why would you think that?


	11. Word Generator 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is the last of what I wrote while I was away this summer. I am now caught up!

**Road Sign**

“You are officially insane.” Robin glared up at Nightwing as the teenager grinned down at him. “Joyriding in the Batmobile is one thing but you drive like a maniac!”

Nightwing grinned again, all teeth, actually, Jason didn’t think he’d stopped grinning since they’d left the cave. “C’mon Jaybird, live a little!”

“I can’t do that if you kill us-look out!”

* * *

**Earth**

As the ship continued forward Jason couldn’t help but look back and watch the planet they had just left disappear in the distance, it’s strange, pink color a jarring contrast against the dark of space. He had sworn once (while very drunk) to never return to Gotham, or even Earth. But he found he missed his home planet and even the dark, oppressive city that had once been the only world he had ever known.

“There’s no place like home.” He thought sardonically and went forward to join Roy and Kori.

* * *

**Tissue**

“You have problems, Replacement.” Jason commented as he circumvented another pile of used tissues stuffed in equally used coffee mugs.

A wet sounding cough and Tim’s red-eyed face emerged from behind the screens and stacks of paper and dishes. “What do you want Jason?”

“Yeah, no.” Jason rolled his eyes. “You need to take some cough meds, probably something like your last three days of antibiotics, get some sleep and some real food, and then we’ll talk. I don’t want the others accusing me of murdering you when you drop dead of exhaustion and some stupid cold just because you can’t get it through your head that you don’t gotta spleen anymore.”

* * *

**Playground**

Bruce settled by the window with the morning paper and a cup of tea (Alfred had barred him from coffee four months earlier.) and wearing his dressing gown. The new, lazy routine was strange, but it was Alfred mandated and Selina enforced and he was finding, somewhat reluctantly, that he enjoyed spending time with his children and grandchildren outside of the nightlife. And Cassandra was doing quite well as the Batman of Batman incorporated, and Jason and Damian had proved to have Gotham well in hand between them.

He glanced out the window. The scene had changed in the past years. Around the time Helena was two Julia and Jason had put in a playground set that was just visible from the window he was at now. Thomas and Talya were out there, running back and forth and running across the _top_ of the monkey bars. (That came from the _Grayson_ side of the family.) Downstairs he could hear Damian and Mar’i bickering playfully over what restaurant to go to for their anniversary, Dick adding commentary as he hurried out the door to work.

Outside the window, his grandchildren appeared to be descending into a shoving match, (from the roof of the playhouse of course) and he placed his paper down beside him with a sigh. Batman to the rescue.

* * *

**Conference**

To an outside observer, Tim, as young as he was, would have looked extremely out of place, Jason thought. About like Jason himself felt. He fidgeted nervously with the sleeve of his jacket, fighting the urge to bolt.

As if he could hear his thoughts, Tim reappeared at his elbow supportively, still speaking with one of the suits they were here to meet with. “And this is my brother, Jason Wayne. He represents the Martha Wayne Foundation and since this is a joint project between the Foundation and Wayne Enterprises…”

Jason tuned out the words in favor of smiling, nodding, and focusing on the non-hostile presence at his elbow. Slowly, the desperate need to flee and disappear faded.

* * *

**Crab**

_**(Takes place in some imaginary, post “Grayson” future)** _

Dick wept tears of joy the night he slunk into the dining room and there were stuffed crabs, cooked to perfection, on the dining table. Weeks after he returned from “the grave”, Alfred at least had forgiven him.

* * *

 

**Advertising**

Damian pasted a smile on his face and followed Grayson out into the crowd. He could be charming, and "schmooze" (Todd's word) the Gotham elite. They were exceedingly gullible after all, it wasn't difficult.


	12. Ilovelocust Again!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IMPORTANT INFORMATION!  
> From now on I ask that, if you want to give me some word prompts, you give me some feedback to go with them, nothing major, just a couple of sentences.  
> Thanks so much y'all.

**Overprotective**

“Boogies from the North.”

“Understood.”

Tim lowered his binoculars slightly at the confirmation that Batman had received his message and sighed. Six months of some of the most unorthodox training ever, four in the field, and Batman was still hesitant to allow him near the action, relegating him to rooftops and distance reconnaissance. He’d complain to Nightwing, except the other man was just as bad.

He didn’t think he’d mention it anyway. There was a gravestone in the Wayne family graveyard and a display case in the Cave that bore witness to the cause for their reluctance.

* * *

**Pompeii**

Tim drew in a harsh breath as he surveyed the broken wreck of Gotham. Smoke was rising from what had once been the busiest portion of the industrial district, hanging like a shroud over the damaged streets below.

But there were people out there, picking through the wreckage, rebuilding. This was Gotham and they would not be beaten by an earthquake.

* * *

**Sunshine**

“Grayson.” Damian growled. “If you do not cease that disgraceful racket I shall hurt you.”

Dick ignored him, continuing to sing softly as he sorted through his e-mails. _“I’m walking’ on sunshine, yeah. I’m walkin’ on sunshine, and don’t it feel good!”_

* * *

**Murder**

“It’s not what it looks like?”

Selina silently cursed her automatic drop into flirtation. Not the time.

“Then what is it?” Batman growled at her, even more unhappy than usual.

Selina glanced from the vigilante to the open window to the dead body on the floor. “I swear he was like that when I got here.”

* * *

**Cunning**

“I really don’t know why people persist in the mistaken belief that you are the nice one.” Tim said, wincing as Dick’s shoulder dug into his hip-bone.

“Easy.” Dick dropped his little brother onto his bed, making a sharp ‘stay there’ gesture as Tim moved to stand up. “I check with Alfred before I do something nefarious and get permission.”

* * *

**Lazy**

Jason woke to a small finger poking him in the back and managed to both pry his eyelids open and keep his groan internal as he sneaked a peek at the alarm clock on the bedside table. 5:36 AM. He’d only gotten to bed an hour ago. He rolled over and came face-to-face with a wide-eyed Isabel, clutching her teddy bear tightly, Ethan pressed up against her back. He lifted the blanket and moved back so there was room for them, asleep again almost before they had cuddled up.

The next time he woke it was to a flash a he startled awake to the sight of Sasha, sniggering behind her phone. He considered growling at her but decided it was too much effort and dropped his head back down onto his pillow. He glanced around and couldn’t stop the smile entirely. Harper and Cullen were curled up at the end of the bed, Izzy and Ethan were snuggled in on one side and Sophia had somehow squeezed herself into the nonexistent space between him and the wall.

“You’re adorable, you know.” Sasha informed him smugly. “Like a giant teddy bear with guns and knives and explosives.”

Jason went back to sleep.

* * *

**Gala**

Bruce had been to so many charity dinners, debutante balls, and society events that he could navigate them with half-asleep, concussed, and with his eyes closed. He has never been as nervous as he is tonight.

He makes the appropriate agreeing noises to accompany the Lefurgy matriarch’s diatribe while covertly turning his attention to the dance floor, where Tim is coaching Cassandra through the steps of a waltz. She is picking it up quickly, on account of both her early…training and the ballet lessons Dick had purchased her as a gift some time ago.

It is her first public appearance as a Wayne and he has been worrying himself over it for the past day. She seems to be handling it well though, only the occasional twitch betraying her discomfort. She has been alternating sticking with Dick or Tim while Bruce makes the rounds.

The music changes and Bruce follows an impulse, excusing himself from the conversation he steps out onto the dance floor and taps Tim on the shoulder. “If I might cut in?”

Tim smiles and steps back and Bruce takes Cassandra’s hand, nervous about a dance for the first time in nearly a decade. (That one time with Selina does not count, no matter what Alfred says.) Cassandra beams up at him, her normally reserved expressions swept away in some emotion that Bruce can’t pinpoint. “How are you enjoying the gala?” He asks as he sweeps her around the center of the floor.

Her smile softens. “I…feel like…Cinderella.”

Her smile is real, her eyes are sparkling, she seems to regard her deep green gown with something akin to wonder… Cinderella has nothing on his daughter.

(She dances the next dance with Lucius’ son, Luke, recently back from a tour in the Middle East and Bruce feels a spark of alarm at how well they move together. This princess is _not_ looking for a prince yet. Not if he has anything to say about it.)


	13. JLA AU - Quinis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The words for this round were provided by the ever-lovely Quinis. Go read her stories if you haven't already!  
> These snippets all come from my fantasy AU which can be found in my Series section if you are interested.  
> It also branches out some from the strict "Bat Family" category, since I used this opportunity to play with several little ideas I had for the AU.  
> (Character conversion list at the end of the chapter for those who need it!)

**Fish**

Dika stepped smoothly to the side, dodging out of the way of the mud kicked up by the wagon passing by with its load of firewood. He gave a nod as he drifted past Aurea's stall, usually he would stop and chat with the elderly weaver and exclaim over her goods (they shared a fondness for bright colors) but he had less than a sun's hour before he had to meet Alfredos outside the courts and Georgios was an unreasonable haggler. Unfortunately, he also carried the best fruit available in the local markets this time of year.

He wrinkled his nose as the early morning breeze carried a whiff of Clarus and Laetitia's wares. He never had cared much for the smell of fish, despite Clarus' good humored claims that it was not that bad. The brother-sister pair gave him subdued greetings as he drew closer, Laetitia reached out to pat his elbow gently.

"How fares your master's house?" Her soft brown eyes glittered with worry.

Dika shrugged, attempting to hide his own pain and knowing that he failed. "As well as can be expected. Lord Varius grieves the young master fiercely." He ducked his head, allowing the fringe of his hair that refused to grow quite long enough to be tied back with the rest to hide his face from view. "We all do."

Laetitia patted his arm again and Clarus gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze, murmuring something that Dika was sure was kind and supportive but he couldn't bring himself to listen to.

He made his excuses and moved on.

 

* * *

**Massive**

"He already controls the Empire. What could he possibly hope to gain by attempting to bring other lands under his domain? None of them are anywhere near as powerful or have the resources that he already has."

Barry felt a little like a child throwing a temper tantrum as he stood, his chair pushed back, willing himself to not shrink beneath the gazes of The Bat of Gotham and The Knight of Steel.

"It is not," The Bat said slowly. "About his own power so much as it is about being assured that he is the only one holding it."

The Knight nodded, his fists clenching in anger. "Those like Emperor Luthor are unable to understand that not all men are like them."

Princess Diana cleared her throat and The Knight inclined his head. "Men and women."

J'onn spoke up. "The Emperor is only as secure in his power as he makes himself. And it is his greatest fear that he will be challenged and lose. That is why he seeks to build his armies ever greater."

"And why he is restricting the freedoms of the territories," Barry nodded, feeling tired. "And there is nothing we can do about it. We are naught but small towns against a great city."

"The territories can do nothing." The Bat corrected, his arms crossed, his helmet's blank gaze fixed upon the great map. "The League however, will not stand tamely by as Alexandra Luthor turns free territories and protectorates into mere provinces of the Empire, nor as he seeks to bring other lands to heel."

The Green Arrow snorted disdainfully. "You can say that again!"

The Black Canary elbowed him in the side in a way that looked painful.

Sir Jonas sighed and leaned forward, the glow given off by his signet flaring minutely. "Is it possible that he merely wishes to secure his own lands?"

Hal, seated beside him, shook his head. "There has not been a serious threat to the Metros Empire in well over a generation, there is nothing to secure _against."_

"Except us." The Bat said grimly.

"You think," Barry gritted out, wishing that his cowl did not prevent him from gripping his hair in frustration. "That the Emperor is turning my home into a...a _battle field_ because he feels threatened by _The League_."

"He is the ruler of an empire that covers most of the continent," J'onn said. "Including your home. He would see it merely as securing his base of power."

"But the treaty-"

"The Emperor only cares about treaties so long as they benefit him." The Bat growled without turning around. "The independence afforded your people and others this past century has become...inconvenient."

 

* * *

**Tactical**

Dika frowned at the carved ivory pieces laid out on the board in front of him and snuck a glance up at Brutus.

The man looked evenly back at him over the table.

"What is the point of this?"

"A strategy exercise."

"But it is so _slow."_ He poked at one of his pieces. "How is that supposed to help?"

Brutus sighed and put on his "teaching face". "Not every instance in which you will need to strategize is so time-pressed as the decisions we make on patrol. Sometimes you will need to wait and watch and move the pieces, all while thinking twelve steps ahead." He gestured at the board. "This will train your mind for that."

Dika sighed and lifted his knight. "I like thinking on the fly better, it is easier when we are _acting._ Everything is so much clearer."

"There will be times when that is not an option." Brutus said. "You must be prepared for them."

 

* * *

**Adhesive**

"It isn't funny." Iason glared and Dika did his best to stifle his smile.

"Of course it isn't." He dabbed the concoction Alfredos had brewed over the places where the strange gunk had stuck Brutus and Iason together at the shoulders.

"It would be even less...amusing." Alfredos said dryly from behind his mortar and pestle. "If the two of you were more of a height."

Dika bit his lip and focused on a spot the brew had left on the back of his gauntlet, and the trail it was leaving as it dripped down onto the sleeve of his Nightwing garb. Iason's self-confidence was still so fragile. _He would not laugh. He would not. Laugh._

 

* * *

**Furious**

The chatter of the bats provided a background that under most circumstances Dika would find soothing but currently only serves to put his nerves more on edge.

Damianos is standing across from him, his face practically purple with rage, nearly speechless with it.

" _This is beneath me!"_

Nearly.

Dika makes sure that his face does not betray his emotions and reminds himself that he is an adult and Damianos is a child. A free child, moreover, and one who has been raised thus far by Lady Talia. "Perhaps." He tosses a pair of fighting sticks. The boy catches them out of reflex.

"Why don't you prove it?"

 

* * *

**Inviting**

Firelight glowed against the parts of the walls not covered by hangings, flickering in orange and gold patterns against the stone.

Stefania leaned back against the pile of embroidered cushions they had thrown together around the divan, turning it into a nest against the cold of the Island night. "For my lady." She passed one of the goblets of hot spiced wine to Kassandra and sipped at her own. The Varius Daughter smiled back at her and sipped slowly at the drink.

"Good."

Stefa grinned and lifted her goblet in a mock toast. "Why thank you. I thought it rather a masterpiece myself!"

Kassandra raised an eyebrow. "Alfredos."

Stefa pouted and flicked droplets at her from her fingertips. "Shush. I _could_ have made it."

Her answer was a supremely innocent blink of dark slanted eyes and a muted knock on the door.

"I will answer that." Stefa pulled herself to her feet and tossed a playful glare at Kassandra. "Maybe it will be someone who appreciates me for the wonderful being that I am."

It's Tim, so she wasn't sure if that was true or not.

"Hi." He smiled nervously and gave an awkward little wave. "May I enter?"

She looked over her shoulder and Kassandra nodded with a bright smile so Stefa stepped aside and curtsied with a flirtatious smile. "Your brother, Milady." She poured another goblet and joined the Varius heir and his sister in the welcoming softness of the cushions. Tim smiled at her and asked how her day had gone.

She never would have thought that this could ever be her life. Maid-in-waiting to the daughter of Lord Varius, engaged in a...slightly illicit courtship with the Varius _heir._

And a warrior who protected the Islands by night.

And this was her home.

 

* * *

**Angel**

Steffan regained consciousness slowly, his eyes crusted shut with the salt left behind by dried sea water, his hair damp and lank about his face. By the time he managed to pry his eyes open through the grit he became aware of the fact that he was wearing no clothes and was covered by the softest blanket he had ever felt, the crackle of a fire mixing with the sound of waves beating against rocks and the cries of seabirds in the distance.

He was unable to keep from tensing ever so slightly, groping for a weapon as he attempted to recall how he came to be...wherever he now was.

"Peace." A beautiful voice soothed him, footsteps drawing nearer to his bedside. "You rest safely here."

He squinted slightly, trying to make out the woman who had spoken through the blur of his vision, blinking to clear it. "And where _am_ I? How did I come to be here?"

"You are on the Island of Healing." The woman said. His vision cleared some and he could make out dark hair. She was tall. Very tall. "Off the shores of Themyscira. Your ship was wrecked and I found you washed up on the rocks."

"Who are you?" He could see more clearly now, as she drew even closer.

"I am Diana. Might I know your name?"

She was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.

"Steffan...I am Steffan. Of Trefmawr."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those who might want a little clarification...  
> Dika - Richard Grayson  
> The Knight of Steel - Superman  
> Sir Jonas - John Stewart/Green Lantern  
> Brutus Varius - Bruce Wayne  
> Iason - Jason Todd  
> Steffan of Trefmawr - Steve Trevor  
> I think all the others are easily discernible.
> 
> If you liked these, you should check out the series!


	14. a2zmom & Random Word Generator

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first four words requested by a2zmom! Thank you for your consistent comments and I hope you like them!
> 
> All of these are pretty ambigious as far as 'verse goes, except for Briefcase which is from E-934 and references something I said in [ Eye to Eye](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3844900)

**Umbrella**

Alfred did not bother to hide his smile as Master Bruce dashed across the street to meet him rather than wait and as a result splashed up to the car soaking wet from the downpour. He offered the object in his hand.

"Umbrella, sir?"

* * *

**Lost Time**

"Drake. Drake!"

There was a sharp jolt and Tim blinked. How had he gotten to be sprawled on the floor? Damian standing over him probably had something to do with it.

He scrambled to his feet and yanked his desk chair away from the Demon Brat. "What?"

"When was the last time you slept." The Brat demanded, hands on his hips and his face puffed up in the way that Dick said made him look like an angry chipmunk. Really it just makes him look like a spoiled brat.

"Why do you care?" Tim shot back, calculating in his head. He'd slept for five hours twenty-two hours ago. He glanced at his desktop clock and froze. Twenty...six hours ago? He'd zoned out for _four hours_?

Something must have shown on his face because Damian snorted triumphantly. "That's what I thought." The chair was yanked out from under Tim _again_. "Go get some sleep Drake. You are worse than useless as you are."

* * *

**Planting a Seed**

Dick grinned to himself. Despite Damian's grumbled (and not so grumbled) complaints about "increasingly infantile 'bonding activities.'" this one seemed to be a hit.

He watched as Damian put the utmost concentration into tucking the soil over the seeds he had just placed in Alfred's herb garden and managed to snap a picture with his phone. This was definitely going in the album.

_"Grayson! What are you doing!"_

* * *

**Sound**

"Sss-hool."

"Almost." Tim smiled encouragingly but Cass still felt like throwing the book out the window. "the 'ch' makes a 'k' sound."

That made no sense. "Stupid."

Tim laughed. "You and Dick will get along great. He still complains about English sometimes."

* * *

**Lunatic**

"I want to be the one to write this report." Stephanie announced gleefully as they watched the newest supervillain wannabe get loaded up to be transported to Arkham. "I get the moon theme and all, but calling yourself 'Lunatic' is really just asking for it."

* * *

**Briefcase**

By the time they finished the cake and got to the presents, Dick was practically bouncing in his seat. (Actually, there was no "practically" in that sentence.)

Sometimes, Tim wondered if his eldest brother was ever going to truly grow up.

Damian's present was the first to be opened, a custom made set of throwing knives balanced perfectly. When Dick hugged him, the brat had muttered something about how he'd found them in an old Shadows bunker, don't read anything into it Grayson.

Tim and Cass had combined forces and gifted Dick with a voucher for a week of covering Blüdhaven accompanied with hotel and restaurant reservations in Dubai, somewhere that Barbara had always wanted to go. (Dick and Babs deserved  a real honeymoon, even if circumstances had prevented it at the time. Better late then never.)

Stephanie's was also a voucher, resulting from her fairly broke state of existence, though hers was for a week of babysitting while Dick and Barbara were gone. (They would come back to find their apartment entirely decorated in purple most likely, between Steph and Mar'i.)

Dick went for Bruce's gift next and sighed before he had the wrapping paper all the way off. "Really Bruce? You've been giving me these since I started college."

It was a briefcase, sleek and expensive and Tim knew immediately that it would never see the light of day.

"Since you did so well while I was...away and are taking more responsibilities at Wayne Enterprises-" Bruce began and Selina sighed with a _here it goes_ look on her face.

"Actually, I'm not." Dick said plainly. "I've accepted Commissioner Gordon's offer to join GCPD."

Jason seemed to find that hilarious, or maybe it was Bruce's look of dismay. Selina silenced him before he could say anything especially insensitive.

"Congratulations, Bat-Chick." She pushed her perfectly wrapped gift in his direction. "My turn."

* * *

**Rain**

"Wake up!"

Tim did wake up, violently. Fortunately (or unfortunately) Dick was able to duck the blow and rolled off Tim's bed, landing on his feet and bouncing on his toes. Tim blinked blearily at him. "What?"

Dick grinned at him in a way that made Tim think it had been at least thirty-six hours since he'd had any real sleep. "It's raining!"

Tim stared a moment, trying to process that. "Dick, it's _always_ raining in Gotham."

"Not like this." His brother insisted. "Come on!"

Tim glared, flipped him the bird, and buried his head under his pillow.

 _"Tiiiiiiiim!"_ Dick whined, sounding all of five years old instead of twenty-five.

The mattress bounced softly and a small finger poked Tim in the side. With a sinking feeling of dread he peeked out to be greeted by Cass' face, less than a foot away from his, smiling mischievously at him. She reached up and poked his nose before pulling back. "Come with us. Rain time!"

Tim groaned. Behind Cass, Damian was standing with his arms crossed and a determined sulk on his face. Jason was in the doorway of his room, looking torn between laughing at Tim's misery or putting a bullet in Dick's head.

At the moment, Tim wasn't sure that he would stop him. He pulled the pillow off his head, sat up and jabbed a finger into Dick's chest with bruising force, throwing as close to a glare as he dared at Cassandra.

"I," he ground out between gritted teeth. "Have been running on _fumes_ for the past week trying to balance Wayne Enterprises, Batman Incorporated, _five_ different cases, and making sure that Bart doesn't blow the secret identities of the entire Flash family. And now _you_ ," He poked his brother again. "Come in here, interrupt the first sleep I've gotten in _days."_ He actually did glare at Cass that time. "Because the two of you are damn _pluviophiles!"_

He ignored Jason's coo of "Oooh, big words, Replacement." in favor of flopping back down on his back.

"You have Damian and Jason as victims already. Drag them out to splash in the puddles with you. Hell, call Stephanie. I'm sure she wold be very happy to humor your madness. _I_ am going to stay in my bed, where it is warm, and sleep for two days. Then I am going to eat a full meal and take my antibiotics, because otherwise I will contract pneumonia from sitting out in the rain because _I don't have a damn spleen_."

He pulled his pillow back over his face.

"Um....We'll...let you sleep then." The sounds indicated that Dick was shooing the others out. (Dragging Jason)

Tim went back to sleep.


	15. Word Generator 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer, I do not own the poetry, it is by Christina Rossetti.  
> ***  
> This has been sitting on my computer for four months now and I finally finished it. Enjoy!

**Value**

This would be so much easier if he knew precisely how to proceed. He might strut and sneer but when he was alone in his room in the quiet Damian admitted to himself that he needed some sort of strategy.

He needed something brilliantly unique.

So what did his father already have?

Working as Grayson's Robin had given him plenty of opportunity to observe his eldest "brother" and categorizing him was ridiculously simple. Grayson excelled at thinking on the fly (quite literally) and "going with the flow" as he liked to say. Drake said that he played to the crowd. Between that ability and his acrobatics and truly ridiculous number of associates and "friends" Grayson was invaluable.

Todd was a more difficult. Why father kept him around was baffling. Though the street trash did have an uncanny knack for concocting the most complicated plans and manipulating people and events to suit himself. It was maddening. His ruthlessness was useful, he took out many of the lesser nuisances, freeing Father to deal with greater issues.

Father himself was one of the most brilliant deductive minds in the world, he had heard his mother speak of it often enough. Father _understood_ things.

And Drake...Damian had underestimated him at the beginning. Drake might be weak, but he was also the chess-master, he was all of them in one. And that made him the most dangerous of all.

And all Damian had to offer was a lifetime of training that Father disapproved of and a mere eleven months as Grayson's Robin.

* * *

**Fridge**

When Tim stumbled into his kitchen at four in the morning it was not so much in search of food as a desperate hope that he might have some leftovers from his last takeout order. He didn't notice the changes until he automatically swerved to avoid the stack of takeout cartons next to the trashcan only to realize that it wasn't there.

He blamed his slow comprehension on coming off a six hour patrol after spending all weekend tracking three different Shadows going in three different directions _and_ trying to balance his work at WE. At least he didn't have to put as much energy into dodging Vicki Vale these days, with Bruce back and the crutches gone. (He'd kept them, just in case, despite his strong desire to light up a bonfire on the roof of Wayne Tower and dance around it until nothing was left but ashes.)

It took him a moment of staring at the blank patch of tile to truly _understand_ that what had been there before was _there no longer_. From there, he noticed that there was a fresh bag in the trashcan, which had been emptied and that all the counters were wiped down and the piles of dirty coffee mugs, Tupperware, and random dishes were all gone. The sinks sparkled in a way that practically screamed _Alfred_ and the floor had been swept. About a half-dozen mugs were set out neatly on a towel beside the sink and Tim knew without looking that the others would all be in the cupboard.

Under other circumstances, Tim would have been irritated at the invasion of his space, and/or concerned that his security had been breached. But...well, Alfred.

Feeling rather more optimistic, Tim turned to the refrigerator, to come eye to eye with a stack of different colored post-it notes. He should probably reevaluate the "Alfred" assessment, considering that the one on top was scribbled in Damian's distinctive handwriting, _Drake. If you do not cease your pathetic efforts at worthiness and attend to your health then the others will drive me insane. Either eat or die and get it over with._

It was signed in Nastaʿlīq script that somehow, despite being red crayon on an orange post-it, managed to be elegant. _Ibn al'Xuffasch._

Tim peeled it off with his fingertips and set it cautiously on the counter beside the sink. He should probably test it for toxins. Beneath it was a purple post-it.

_Hey Ex-Boyfriend Wonder! Dick said you hadn't been eating well lately, so we brought you some supplies. Appreciate the waffle batter, and eat it soon please. The waffle iron is in the pantry, second shelf from the top. Jason had it up on the very top, you're welcome. Steph._

Underneath Steph's scrawled name was a carefully drawn smiley face with its tongue sticking out, Cassandra's unofficial signature. (It just had to be his luck that of the people in his life, Dick, Steph, _and_ Cass all shared the same sense of humor.)

The third note was blue, which was practically a signature in and of itself and Tim did not need the near illegible handwriting or the large-written name at the end to know it was from Dick. _Hiya Tim-Tim, vitamins are in cupboard above the microwave and gulaš is in the fridge. I left off the spices just for you. When you come up for air, we'd like a visit just so you know. It's a bit concerning when you disappear for two weeks straight. And how many coffee cups do you even have? Do what Jay said and take your antibiotics._

The final post-it was pink, and written in a neat, Alfred-trained print that Tim knew far too well from years of reverently perusing the writer's book collection, well-marked with notes, commentary, and astute observations.

_Seriously Replacement, if you drop dead of starvation or malnutrition or the damned Kryptonian Flu while living in Crime Alley, Bossy-Bats is going to find a way to blame it on me. Take your damned antibiotics and eat the food. Bread is in the pantry, the stroganoff isn't Alfred quality but beggars can't be choosers. And I fixed the damn short in your microwave. If you burn down-_

There was another note behind it, from where he'd run out of room.

_half the city because you can't be bothered to do basic maintenance on your crap, burn down the other half. The one that I don't live in.  
_

_I didn't let Harper touch your coffee maker. You're welcome. You have too many mugs they don't all fit in the cupboard.  
_

It wasn't signed, but it didn't need to be. Tim gave his coffee maker a grateful glance. He had seen what happened to machines that Roy Harper touched. (It usually involved large explosions.)

Investigation proved that Tim was now the proud owner of a whole lot of new Tupperware, filled with various sorts of food. Stroganoff sounded good but it was all the way at the back and if Dick had actually _made_ gulaš _and_ left out the face-melting spices that both he and Damian favored...Tim popped one of the single-serving containers in the microwave and fished a fresh loaf of homemade bread out of the pantry (It was a wardrobe-like monstrosity that Jason had dropped off one night, cackling.)

...How had they _all_ gotten through his security?

* * *

**Lipstick**

_Why am I out of lipstick?_

Most people, Steph mused, did not likely get that text from their boyfriends.

_Why u asking?_

_Because I need to be at Jenny's Diner in half an hour looking skanky and I'm out of lipstick. Why am I out._

_It was an emergency okay. Check Casss room_

_No thanks. I value my life. And all her lipstick is black._

_what color is ur dress?_

_Dark purple._

_blackll work just wear rlly dark eyeliner_

_I know that._

_Then do it. ull lk a real hussy_

_You've been hanging out with Jason again, haven't you._

_Ask me no ? & ill tell u no lies_

_I don't want to raid my sister's makeup._

_Dont u have stashes??_

_Dick made off with the kit from the only safe house close enough. And I'm not asking Jason._

_Cass or nothing_

_Fine._

* * *

**Beans**

The smell that woke Damian was familiar and for a moment he was four years old again, curled in his bed in the small palace his mother had hidden him in, waiting for one of his caretakers to bring him his meal. Then he blinked and he was instead sprawled across Grayson's bed and Grayson himself in a most undignified manner, the open spaces of the palace exchanged for the peeling wallpaper that covered (most of) the walls in the substandard apartment Grayson had moved into after he...left.

The smell remained though and Damian was curious enough about the muted clatter he could hear in the kitchen to slip out of the bed without waking Grayson and pad silently out of the room into the cramped little excuse for a kitchen.

Gordon was there, somehow just managing to fit her wheelchair into the narrow space in front of the stove. She smiled at him over her shoulder. "Good morning. Or rather, good afternoon. Would you please pass me the lentils? The _Damy_ is almost ready." She pulled a pot of rice from the stove and dumped it into a bowl.

"What are you doing here?" Damian asked as he passed the smaller bowl of lentil beans. Gordon mixed them into the rice and portioned out three plates.

"After the night you two had, I thought you could use some real food." She handed Damian a cupful of ice with a smirk. "Why don't you go wake Dick up so we can eat."

Perhaps Gordon wasn't so bad after all.

* * *

**Film**

" _Why,_ " Tim hissed at Cass, "Did you tell Bruce about movie night?"

Cass blinked at him. "Not want him know?"

"Want him _to_ know. And no," he scowled, "I didn't. There are only so many times you can watch Zorro before it gets old."

* * *

**Verse**

Cassandra frowned at the piece of paper pinned to the front of the gift that had been left on her bed (It was from Tim) and did her best to sound out the words.

Tim was usually really good about not giving her a lot to read, so if he had put something this long here it was important.

          _For there is no friend like a sister_  
_In calm or stormy weather;_  
_To cheer one on the tedious way,_  
_To fetch one if one goes astray,_  
_To lift one if one totters down,_  
_To strengthen whilst one stands._

* * *

**Saw**

"Good evening, Kittens." Catwoman purred as she slunk up behind Robin and Spoiler's perch. The children jumped a little and she laughed at Robin's suspicious look. "Don't worry sweetie, I'm taking the night off. You don't have to call the Big Bad Bat on me."

She settled herself beside the girl and looked out over the city. One think you could say for the newest baby bird, he knew how to pick a place with a view. She glanced to the side and raised an eyebrow at the way the boy was blushing.

 _Oh_.

She rose gracefully to her feet. "So sorry, I didn't mean to crash your date. Have a lovely evening." Maybe she _should_ go find Tall, Dark, and Broody.


	16. Ferith12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Words provided by the wonderful Ferith12! And they are some amazing words. (I had to look Fernweh up, so I went ahead and included definitions for all of them.) Enjoy!

**Phobaphobia**

**_n. The fear of developing a phobia_ **

Finding the Replacement in his kitchen is not high on the list of things Jason Todd ever wants to wake up to. The kid is standing in front of Jason's state-of-the-art-it-is-100%-off-limits-Roy coffee maker, bloodshot eyes fixed on the pot. It's way too early to deal with this.

"What are you doing here, Pretender?" Jason asks as he contemplates his chances of survival if he tries for some of the coffee (Colombian) currently brewing. It doesn't look promising.

"Making coffee."

"I can see that." Jason says cautiously as he begins collecting what he needs to make them omlets and toast. "I meant more generally."

"I'm not afraid of it."

Jason wonders if he should call Dick-face and tell him that Baby Bird has finally lost it and come get him because the only person allowed to have psychotic breaks in Jason’s safe house kitchen is Jason himself.

"Pardon?"

"Dreams lie. I'm not afraid of it. I'm not!"

"Are you saying," Jason says slowly, whisking half-a-dozen eggs together with cheese and chives, "That you had a dream you were afraid of coffee?"

Tim doesn't look away from the percolating beverages, his knuckles white on the Wonder Woman mug he is clutching. "Yes."

"And you are in my kitchen at 6:30 AM to what? Prove it wrong?"

"My coffee maker is broken." Tim says mechanically. Jason assesses the bags under his eyes, makes a guess at how long it has been since the kid slept, and begins trying to figure the best way to slip him a sedative without getting caught.

* * *

  **Demagogue**

**_n. a political leader who seeks support by appealing to popular desires and prejudices rather than by using rational argument._ **

**_(in ancient Greece and Rome) a leader or orator who espoused the cause of the common people._ **

"I insist." Damian glares at them all. "Surely if such a mediocre person as the president of the United States of America can pardon a turkey than so can you, Father."

* * *

**Fernweh**

**_n. A German word literally meaning "farsickness"._ **

**_Wanderlust, a desire to travel, a longing for far-off places_ **

"He'll be back you know."

Damian didn't look up from his sketchbook. "What inanities are you spouting now, Gordon?"

Used to the youngest member of the Family's rather unique way of expressing himself by now, Barbara didn't take offense and instead wheeled herself into the sun room, coming to a halt beside the cushion Damian was sitting cross-legged upon. "Dick. He always comes back."

This time Damian did look up and Barbara could see the hurt shining in his blue-grey eyes and the stubborn set of his mouth. "Why would I care what Grayson does. It's no concern of mine." As if he was aware of the way his face betrayed the lie he resolutely turned back to whatever it was he was drawing.

Barbara hummed, arguing with Damian never accomplished anything. "It something that Bruce has never understood. It is part of why they fought so much back then. It isn't that Dick doesn't love us and want to be here with us, but sometimes he just needs to remind himself that the cage door is open and that he _can_ leave. And he gets twitchy when he stays in one place for too long."

Damian had stilled, listening despite himself and Barbara resisted the temptation to ruffle his hair the way she would have with Dick, Jason, or Tim. "Haly's is touring Europe right now. He'll probably travel with them for a month or two and then one day he'll just show up for breakfast. He might even stay in the manor for awhile before he finds an apartment."

Something she'd said had been enough to ease the tension that had been pulling Damian's shoulders taut since Dick had stormed out of the manor that morning after his latest fight with Bruce, her work here is done. Alfred owes her one.

* * *

**Brontide**

**_ n. A low muffled sound like distant thunder heard in certain seismic regions especially along seacoasts and over lakes and thought to be caused by feeble earth tremors. _ **

 "Call me paranoid," Dick murmured quietly to Barbara. "But I'm actually worried to see them all getting along."

"They're just your little brothers." Babs deadpanned, not looking away from the trace she was running for him. "What could possibly be worrying about that?"

* * *

**Elegant**

_**adj. Pleasingly graceful and stylish in appearance or manner.**_

_**(of a scientific theory or solution to a problem) Pleasingly ingenious and simple.** _

"When I said I expected you to make it up to me, this wasn't exactly what I had in mind." Selina did her best to keep her smile from showing.

Bruce rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. "I had reservations at Gianna's but apparently someone leaked that information to the paparazzi and I wanted tonight to be just us."

Selina smirked. "Yes, Vicki Vale third-wheeling would be rather uncomfortable, wouldn't it?" She brushed off her skirt. "You are lucky I don't mind climbing onto the rooftop in a dress."

Bruce smirked back and Selina laughed. She was aware of how well the dress in question fit her. Bruce hadn't had her climb up first and followed so he could catch her if she fell. Who said you weren't allowed to age gracefully?

"I have been informed," Bruce said solemnly as he led her over to the picnic blanket, set with fine china and a small candelabra. "That the manor roof has one of the best views in Gotham."

"Your source wouldn't happen to be your eldest son now, would it?" Selina settled down against a gable.

He shrugged. "Guilty as charged. He also took Damian for the weekend so we won't be disturbed."

"Unless Tim or Cassandra come home."

"We'll hope for the best."

* * *

 **Stars** **  
**

_**n. Plural of Star. A fixed luminous point in the night sky that is a large, remote incandescent body like the sun.** _

_**v. 3rd person present of Star. (of a movie, play, or other show) have (someone) as a principal performer.** _

_Al'Esliha commands her muscles not to shake as she stands before Father the gun barks, a searing pain fills her body, radiating from the new wound in her leg. She does not flinch.  
_

_Father nods in approval and stitches her wound himself. After, he takes her outside and they watch the stars for hours._

Cassandra hangs her Batgirl costume carefully in the cave. Bruce-Batman joins her as Alfred-Butler brings them sandwiches. Alfred-Butler makes very good sandwiches. Bruce-Batman is tired and sad so Cass hugs him tightly. He is surprised at first but soon he is hugging her back like he never wants to let go. They watch the stars until dawn chases them from the sky.

* * *

**Imagine**

_**v. form a mental image or concept** _

It's not that everyone getting along is a rare thing in Casa del Wayne but...well, its a rare thing. So Dick isn't quite sure if he should pinch himself or back away slowly. All four of his siblings in one room, plus Babs and Stephanie, and no bloodshed? He is either dreaming, or they are conspiring against a common enemy.

Given that Damian looks pleased, Jason amused, Babs smug, and Cass and Steph are giggling into each others' hair and giving him sideways looks, he'd bet that its the latter with a high probability the _he_ is said common enemy.

Tim, who is giving hiding behind his tablet the best shot he can, squeaks as Steph pokes him in the side. Besides Tim, eyes firmly fixed on the screen in his hands, they are all watching Dick with varying combinations of amusement, hilarity, and anticipation. Escape seems unlikely so he bites the bullet and strides into the room with his best showman's saunter.

"Do I want to know?" He injects as much humor as possible into his tone and bends to kiss Babs on the cheek. She turns and playfully catches it with her lips and Dick takes a moment after she pulls back to admire how beautiful she is, her red hair clipped up in a messy bun and the reflection of her laptop screen on her glasses nearly hiding her eyes.

Jason burst into partially stifled laughter at his question and seems to be still standing only because he is leaning against the wall. Tim is bright red, the blush reaching down his neck and over his ears.

"Well you see," Stephanie says, her tone gleeful, "It all started because of these two." she flicks a hand at Babs who smiles serenely the way she does whenever there is an alien invasion with a monologuing leader she's about to destroy, and Tim who sinks deeper into his seat, muttering about how he didn't ask for this. "We're figuring out the structure of a society where they use their powers for evil instead of niceness and form a totalitarian dictatorship instead of just operating as a shadow government over a world that hasn't realized it's been conquered.

In this world, Babs and Tim-Tim are the totalitarian dictators, obviously. Baby Bat here is Public Enemy Number One just out of principle." Damian crosses his arms over his chest proudly and Tim mutters " _spite"_ under his breath.

"Principle." Steph repeats firmly. "I'm the leader of The Resistance and Tim and I broke each others' hearts so its personal. He's obsessed with capturing me and I'm determined to bring an end to his cruel regime."

She flaps a hand in the air. "And while I am leading this rebellion, I am also having a torrid affair with Jason, who is an outlaw who claims to only be out for his own interests but is really my unofficial co-leader. Very Han Solo-esque."

Jason is sliding down the wall in his hilarity and Tim is practically horizontal at this point, his blush growing deeper and deeper as he sinks farther and farther into his seat. "Cass is Barbara's trusted and terrifying right hand, of course." Steph continues, ignoring the peanut gallery around her.

There is a significant pause in which everyone looks at Dick expectantly, even Tim peeking over the top of his tablet, and he surrenders to the inevitable. "And where am I in this hypothetical world order?"

Damian flushes red in his turn, looking peeved as Jason loses it altogether, lying helplessly in a heap on the carpet, gasping for breath through his howls of laughter. Tim loses the battle he has been fighting against embarrassment and gravity with friction as his ally and actually slips out of his armchair and disappears beneath the coffee table in a flail of limbs and an ominous crack that has Dick wincing and hoping that was the tablet and not his little brother's skull. A warm arm snakes around his hips from the side.

"How do you feel about being my love-slave?" Barbara smiles wickedly up at him. "According to Stephanie I keep you locked up in a decadent palace somewhere."

Dick blinks, not really sure what to say to that at first. He can hear Damian grumbling about the willful disregard of his (Dick's) ability to escape any prison they put him in.

Cass is chewing on her lip, watching him with the crinkles around her eyes she gets when she laughs. "Of course I am feeding intel to the rebellion." he gives his own sly smirk right back at Babs.

She tilts her head and the reflection in her glasses takes on a sinister tinge. "And of course I know all about it," she hums, leaning in closer. Jason is beginning to sound like he might actually pass out from lack of oxygen. "and have been feeding you false information."

Dick is practically sitting on the arm of her wheelchair at this point and Damian snorts.

"I have better things to do than tolerate this idiocy and watch Grayson and Gordon flirt." He stalks out of the room, Titus on his heels, and Stephanie joins Jason rolling on the floor as Tim dares to emerge from beneath the coffee table.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> nothing expressed herein is representative of my political views and/or opinions. Just Damian's.
> 
> Al'Esliha = The Weapon


	17. More Words from Ferith12

**Snowflake**

 Jason crossed his arms and sulked. "Just 'cause the Replacement is better with computers doesn't mean he is necessarily the best choice for that mission."

"Indeed." Alfred said in his most noncommittal way, paging through his copy of Shakespeare's complete works. "I am feeling rather in the mood for Henry the IV today. What do you think, Master Jason?"

"Sure." Jason flipped his book open to the green and yellow bookmark that he'd made in middle school and had somehow survived the years locked up in his room at the manor. "But seriously, I'm not complaining but I really don't think taking the Baby Bird was really the best choice."

"You are all your own special snowflakes and Master Bruce loves each of you equally." Alfred said dryly. "I believe that Master Timothy had 'dibs'. Why don't you begin. Act I scene 1."

* * *

**Proud**

 The night was over at long last and Bruce's children scattered as soon as the last of the guests disappeared. Guessing by the tie hanging on the banister, Dick had gone up to Damian's room for the night and Tim and Jason had wandered off arguing about a new youth center they were working with in Crime Alley. Cassandra hung back, looking as graceful and elegant in her wispy evening gown as she ever did leaping across roof-tops.

"I did good?" She seemed nervous, studying him carefully for his reaction. Bruce laid a gentle hand on the back of her head, feeling her silk-soft hair beneath his calloused finger-tips.

"You did good."

She smiled, radiant as the sun.

* * *

  **Tomorrow**

 "I think today went really well." Dick said as he locked up the last of the gymnastics equipment. Jason snorted.

"If by 'well', you mean one drive by and an attempted kidnapping of the shrimp then yeah, it went 'well.'"

"I'm fine." Tim grumbled as he pushed past the bleacher Damian was sulking on. "As far as volunteer days in Bludhaven go it wasn't bad."

"Thanks guys." Dick said, more quietly as he led the way out of the center and locked the doors behind them. "I know it meant a lot to the kids. And it certainly made the gymnastics lessons more...interesting." He glanced at Damian.

Jason laughed and threw his arms out wide. "Yeah, there might be some questions when that preschooler kicks out teeth with the moves Demon Spawn showed her."

 "Then we'll deal with that when it comes." Dick laughed.

* * *

  **Child**

" _Dya! Dya_!" Mary Grayson looked up as her son ran to her across the railing. " _Johnny's being mean to me!_ "

"Oh he is?" She smoothed down her little Robin's hair, mourning his fading baby-curls as she did so. Her baby was almost eight now, growing up so fast. He blinked up at her without comprehension, his little nose wrinkling in confusion and she gave into the temptation to bop it. " _English, Desteredre. We are in America now, remember."_

" _Molim vas, Dya_." He whined and she tapped his nose again.

"English. Not Romani, not Croatian, and, before you ask, not Russian either."

"Don't want." He frowned up at her, pushing close to her leg as they made their way back to their trailer. "Hard."

"English is my language." She said as they passed Harry directing some of the roustabouts. "And we will be here in America for several years. You need to learn it."

He made a face and seemed about to argue before he gave a squeal and darted off to greet Zitka. Not for the first time, Mary wondered about her son's lack of attention span. She could have sworn that Johnny wasn't this bad when he was that age.

 

* * *

**Reality**

 Bruce soldiered through nearly an hour of post-fear gas tremors and disapproving frowns from Alfred before he finally removed the suit and went upstairs. On the way, he stopped at the door to Dick's room and looked in. Sure enough, the acrobat was doing his best impression of an octopus, twined around Tim and Damian, refusing to let them go, even in sleep.

* * *

  **Inspiration**

"You are the sun that shines down upon me in these dark times!"

Barbara didn't even look up from her computer screen, but she laid one hand on the head leaning against her knee. "You must be concussed if you are waxing this poetical. And the definition of 'dark times' rather precludes any sunshine."

"Babs!" Dick whined and she could hear the pout in his voice. 

* * *

**Virulent**

Tim shuffled into his kitchen at 1:00 PM to be greeted with the sight of his sister preparing to attack a jar of Nutella with a batarang. "Cass, what are you doing?"

She whirled and glared at him. "Stuck." She shoved the jar under his nose.

Tim blinked, wishing he'd had more than the few hours of sleep he had managed. "What?"

Her scowl deepened and she shook the jar. "Is stuck. Open!"

Stephanie wandered in, rumpled and visibly grouchy, a rather impressive bruise developing on her left cheekbone from her tussle with Harley the night before. "Is the Nutella open yet? Harper and Kate will be here soon."

Tim was not stupid. On the contrary, he had a reputation of being something of a genius. He had also had no more than two and a half hours of sleep the night before. So it took him a minute to look between his sister and his ex, connect the dots and check his mental calendar to verify. Once he had, he decided that discretion was the better part of valor. He opened the Nutella jar. "I'll go get some ice cream."

Half an hour later he dropped off a bag of ice cream, chocolate sauce, and Midol and high-tailed it to the safe-house that Jason tended to frequent most often.

Jason opened the door looking half-asleep and fully confused. "What are you doing here, Pretender. Don't you have your own house-apartment-theater-thing? That isn't inhabited by someone who has tried to kill you on multiple occasions."

"It has been invaded by hormonal women." Tim brushed by him and made a beeline for the bed. Jason had silk sheets and they were amazing. He shed his jacket and shoes as he crossed the floor, feeling a vindictive pleasure at the older vigilante's noise of distress at his messiness. "I'll take my chances."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up...  
> A chapter for Crowded Enough and one for the JLA AU. In no particular order.


	18. JLA AU - Erin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These prompts were given by a guest account, so I can't gift them officially, but thank you Erin for the fantastic bunnies you gave me! I hope you like the results, despite the long waiting period.  
> The request was,  
> "please write something in the Justice lands of Antiquity, maybe focusing on Dika's life as a slave and how it affects the batfamily."  
> I did my best! The fills are arranged chronologically for your convenience.

**Empty**

Dika tiptoed into the kitchen, feeling as if any sound he made would be too loud in the echoing halls. Alfredos looked up from the platter he was arranging at his entrance.

"Ah, Rikárd, just in time." The steward bustled about for a moment or two, the ring of keys at his belt jingling softly, then handed the platter to Dika. "Take this up to Master Brutus' outer chamber in the west corridor. The fire is already set, all you have to do is place this on the table."

Dika, not knowing what else to do, nodded and took the tray, returning to the long, twisting halls he thought he had escaped. It did not take long before he was thoroughly lost and wandering the passage-ways, the tray becoming heavier and heavier in his arms. He could no longer remember where he was supposed to go or how to get there. After several minutes of trying to find any place that looked at all familiar he found himself sitting on the floor against a wall, crying, with the platter on the floor beside him. As all the events of the past few days hit him all at once all over again, filling the unfamiliar silences with the sounds of his family's bodies hitting the ground.

How long he was there for he didn't know, but some minutes later he was pulled from his grief by a large form crouching down across from him.

"Rikárd?"

In a panic, Dika dashed the tears from his eyes and leapt to his feet. "Master Varius!" In his shock, he didn't even so much as bow his head, looking the lord in the eyes for the first time since _that_ night. "I-I'm sorry. I got lost-"

"It's alright." Lord Varius said awkwardly. Dika remembers how he'd thought the lord didn't really know what to do with people, back before...everything happened. "It's a big keep. Has Alfredos shown you the servants' passages yet?"

Surprised by the lord's lack of anger, Dika dumbly shook his head.

Lord Varius picked up the platter and stood to his feet. "Then I shall." He held a hand out to Dick who took it, noticing for the first time how tired and rumpled his new master was and how he held himself to protect his side, as if he had just finished working very hard for a very long time and had been hurt while doing so.

Lord Varius lead him down several hallways until they came to a room that just had a single trestle table and two large wooden chairs, the fireplace full of flickering flames. "This is the room where I usually take my meals." He set the platter on the table and gestured to a tapestry on the wall across the room. "There is a passageway behind that which leads into another which runs straight to the kitchens."

Intrigued, Dika eyed the tapestry which depicted two great beasts, one with leather bat-wings and the other with the cruel curved beak and talons of a hunting-bird, locked in fierce battle midair. "Like a secret passage?"

Lord Varius' mouth twisted into something like a smile and Dika realized with a force like a blow to the throat that he _missed_ making people smile.

"Something like that." Lord Varius said softly. "I used to spend hours wandering them after my parents were killed." He glanced between Dika and the platter. "Why don't you eat with me. Alfredos always sends too much."

Again, Dika was left stunned. Since he had come here he had either eaten alone or with the old steward. And you didn't have to be a born house-slave to know that masters and slaves didn't eat together. Most people weren't like the troupe. They were more _civilized_. (Dika has come to think that "civilized" is another word for cold and lonely.)

Lord Varius gestured to one of the chairs as he sat in the other. "Please, Rikárd, be seated." He began putting food onto one of the smaller silver platters on the tray.

Feeling a little nervous, Dika hopped up onto the other chair. It was uncomfortable, sitting on the edge of the seat with his feet not near able to touch the floor. Cautiously, he pulled up to sit cross-legged.

Lord Varius just smiled awkwardly at him and suddenly the big rooms and vast halls didn't seem quite so fearsome.

* * *

**Apple**

Dika tensed but didn't look up at the sudden gust of wind that stirred up the dust and straw of the stable yard. He determinedly focused on the grey of Kataigida's coat in front of him. Brutus had business in town tonight as Prince Varius and both the carriage horses needed grooming.

"So." there was a long silence and he could hear a rustling that he knew was Wally fiddling with the hem of his tunic, the way he always did when he was nervous. If he looked up, he would be chewing his lip too. Dika didn't look up.

"We were surprised. And shocked. And a little bit unhappy. You know?"

Dika clenches his fist around the brush. "I understand, sir. Please know that-"

"Wait!" There is another burst of wind and Dika finds himself facing the other way, staring at Wally's boots. He fights down his instinctive reaction of violence and forces himself to stay still instead. Wally could not have made it past the wards without being let in by Alfredos or Brutus. He is allowed to be here. "We aren't mad _at you_ , silly goose."

Dika did look up, in surprise, rearing back a little when he realized just how close Wally was, staring at him with wide, worried green eyes in his pale, freckled face. "What?"

"Of course we aren't angry at you, Robin. We're angry _for_ you."

Dika frowned up at him, feeling oddly more settled at being called Robin. "For me? But why?"

Wally had his _You're being dense Rob_ face on. "Because we're your friends."

The young wind-walker always had been optimistic. "Even if _you_ feel that way, I doubt Prince Roi or Prince Garth, let alone the Princess, would think so. You don't really understand, Wally."

"First," Wally raised a finger, "I'm offended by the idea that just because we don't have slavery where I'm from, I can't have some feel for what's going on. I might not understand _everything_ , but I'm not completely clueless either. Second, you should know that the first thing Roi did was run off to find Olivier and tell him to buy your freedom. And Dema looked about ready to grab you and fly away to Themyscira with you. Garth might actually be about to put together and lead an Undersea attempt to conquer the Islands on your behalf."

There was an awkward silence for a moment while Dika processed all that.

"I was joking about that last one." Wally said hurriedly. "I think. It's hard to tell with Garth sometimes. 'Cause he's really quiet. Until he's not." He was starting to speed up and Dika managed to interrupt before he became completely insensible.

"Prince Roi what?"

Wally actually physically froze for a moment. "What? Roi telling Olivier to buy your freedom?"

Dika scowled. "Why would he do that? He has no right."

Wally took a deep breath. "I'm trying to understand here but you have to help me, my friend. Why does Roi doing that make you angry? What do you mean he has no right?"

Dika made an angry gesture. "He didn't ask. Just assumed he knew what to do. All of them, they are already treating me like a slave, Wally. You're the only one who came to talk to _me_. Suddenly, I'm someone who needs to be _saved_."

"Alright." Wally nodded, "So what do you want?"

 _For nothing to have changed_. Dika thought but what he said was, "It doesn't matter what I want."

"That, right there," Wally pointed at him. "Not helping yourself. If you don't want us to treat you like a slave, then you can't act like one with us."

Dika was silent but Wally pressed on. "You're our leader. Just be who you have always been."

* * *

**Punishment**

Isn't this usually done by magic?" Iason asked, sounding strange with his nose wrinkled up, trying to block the smell.

Dika chuckled and leaned forward from his perch on the railing. "Yes. But usually you weren't caught disrespecting your schoolmaster to his face."

"The man in an imbecile and a gossip of the worst sort." Iason muttered, thrusting his shovel viciously into the fouled straw, the echoes off the walls of the Cave amplifying his complaints. "I gave him exactly as much respect as he deserved."

"Perhaps," Dika said mildly, nudging Defteros aside so he could hop down onto the floor of the pen. "But we have an image to keep up and if you can't remember that there are consequences." Nychterida snorted in agreement, Desteredre ignored them all and continued his quest to find the treats he was sure were hidden away on Dika's person.

"Is that why Brutus treats you like he does?" Iason blurted.

Dika tensed, his knuckles white against the black of Desteredre's mane.. "It's complicated, Iason."

"Vlakas was talking about you." Iason said quietly, fiddling with the handle of his shovel. "He said that Brutus should just sell you since he is obviously bored of you." He dropped a final forkful of manure on the pile. "He won't sell you. Will he?"

Dika said nothing.

* * *

**Blood**

"How are you doing?"

Dika didn't look away from the wide green eyes blinking up at him from his daughter's face. "Well enough."

Barbara wheeled up beside him so that he could see the flame of her hair in his periphery. "Are you sure? You know you don't have to do this alone."

"That's just it," Dika looked up and Barbara saw for the first time that he had tears in his eyes. "I'm not alone. I'm not the last anymore."

And she held her friend as he wept, feeling the joy of knowing that he was no longer the lone survivor of his clan. 

* * *

  **History**

_It is now some two hundred years or more since the Great Fire Drake of the Shadowed Mountains descended upon the Island of Mystiko and there made his lair. For nigh on seven years he crouched in the shadows of the Barren Hills and from there preyed upon the Island and it's inhabitants, gathering to himself treasures of gold and silver and all that is precious and rare. For the great House of Coronus was one of merchants who labored long to bring beauty and light to the Islands._

_Then one day, among the servants of Prince Coronus, a young man, a scribe called by name Timotheus, rose up and declared his intent to go forth against the dragon. And he took no sword nor armor, only a dagger and a light javelin._

_And what passed between Timotheus and the dragon none know, even to this day, but as the sun rose golden in the east a third time he returned, bearing with him the fire-stone of the dragon._

_Prince Coronus honored_ _Timotheus and gave to him the name Drakon, and the symbol of the House Drakon was a Black Dragon and remains so to this day._

_Timotheus was wed to the daughter of the Prince's wife's sister, and his House prospered, serving well as scholars and administrators._

_Some three generations after Timotheus's bloodline was established, the last Prince of the House Coronus died of a fell disease that swept the Islands, along with his only issue, a daughter named Aemilia, unmarried and childless. And the House Drakon was appointed to govern in their stead as stewards. This office have they faithfully fulfilled, even unto this day._

* * *

**Respect**

Dika had not expected to meet the new daughter of the House as Nightwing, but he had only just made his way onto the rooftops the night of his return from Blüdhaven when a slight, dark shadow landed silently beside him.

"M'lady." Dika said lightly, watching the black mask and neutral body language warily through his lashes. A faint wrinkle showed on her mask, about where he imagined her nose to be.

"No." she said firmly, the slight rasp in her voice betraying its lack of use. "No lady."

Dika blinked, not sure what she meant. Her posture didn't read as angry, more frustrated.

"Nightwing." She pointed at him, stuttering over the syllables a little. "Flittermouse." Herself. "Sword-Brother."

She held out her hand, deceptively small in her glove and Dika met her halfway, their clasped forearms sealing the understanding, warrior to warrior.

* * *

**Family**

Damianos watched from a corner as the two slaves bustled around the small space, settling everything in. He scowled when the gypsy looked over at him. It seemed to have no affect.

"You could come help, you know." He said mildly in a way that put Damianos' hackles up.

"Don't speak to me." The young assassin growled. "You really have no knowledge of your place do you, Slave."

The half-breed girl watched silently, her wide, fae eyes unreadable to Damianos. The gypsy placed a hand on her shoulder. "Give us a minute Mar, please."

Once the child was gone, her sire turned his full attention to Damianos, his blue eyes serious and his mouth set in a way that Damianos had only seen once before, two nights since when the slave had the audacity to don his father's armor and had gone out to battle the imposter who had beaten both the false heir and Damianos himself. "You should be less worried about my _place_ and more about your own." He said plainly. "Until we can find a way to handle this without Ennius, you have been disavowed. You _have_ no place in this household except the one my daughter and I have offered you. You have no place on these Islands. Unless you wish to return to your mother, you shall have to put up with dwelling in the slave quarters. You may be free, Damianos Ibn al'Xuffasch, but you have no claim to more."

Damianos longed to retaliate, to turn back the slave's words with his own, but his throat felt as though it were caught in a strangle hold and he could not force a single sound out. The gypsy sighed and the air of command he had born for a moment diminished.

"The Bat shall ride again tonight. You are healed enough to accompany him should you choose to do so."

Damianos sat alone in his thoughts for a long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, Empty was an idea that I had that I won't be able to use in the actual continuity because, language barrier, but I thought that the overall theme still fit and so here it is. (Also, don't be too hard on Alfredos. He spent a good portion of the night hours ensuring that Brutus didn't bleed out all over the city and the cave. Even Alfredos is human and can get exhausted and forget that the small child might need help finding where to go.)  
> Most of these are little snippets of things to come/deleted scenes.


	19. Crowded Enough AU - Somariel

**Kind**

Barbara is doing homework in her room when her concentration is broken by the sound of her parents arguing. Cautiously, she slips out of her room and tiptoes down the hall. Her parents are in the kitchen and her mom looks furious.

"What were you thinking!" She hisses, poking a finger at her dad. "We can't keep him here!"

"It's only for the weekend." Her dad runs a hand tiredly over his face. "They were going to leave him there, Lena."

"You can't just bring a delinquent-"

"He's not a delinquent." Her dad says shortly and he's angry now. "He's an eight year old boy who witnessed his entire family be horrifically murdered barely a month ago and speaks about five words of English. He is a _child_ , Eileen. And they put him in the JDC because, and I quote, 'He'd have ended up there anyway!'"

He takes a deep breath. "Bruce Wayne is suing for custody, as well as bringing charges against Child Services, but until Monday they won't be able to find a real placement for him. And we are already cleared as foster parents from when we took in Barbara."

Barbara decided she's heard enough and heads for the living room. On the way she passes James Jr's room, the door is cracked and his head is showing in the opening. "What's going on?"

"Nothing." she says automatically. "Go back to sleep JJ." She walks on past and slips through the door into the living room.

Standing in a corner, one arm in a cast, the other wrapped tightly around himself, his shoulders hunched up to his ears, is a small boy. So small, Barbara would have thought him five or maybe six like JJ at the most, not eight like her dad said. He looks up when she comes in and Barbara has to hide her flinch at the giant bruise on the side of his face, stretching from a cut nearly hidden beneath the fringe of his lank black hair, covering his eye and over his cheekbone down to a split lip. Barbara fiercely hopes that whoever Mr. Wayne is pressing charges against, he wins.

"Hi." She says, careful to keep her voice low and soft. "I'm Barbara."

He says nothing, just watches her with the most brilliantly blue eyes she has ever seen, even through the bruises and swelling.

She holds a hand out and gives her best quiet smile, the one she remembers receiving from her then-aunt-now-mom after her birth parents had died in the car crash. She was so young she shouldn't remember it at all, but she does. She remembers how it made the hurt go away, just for a minute. "I'm doing my math homework. Do you want to come sit with me?"

Wary blue eyes look back and Barbara isn't able to hold back a shiver at the way they look right into her soul.

Slowly, the boy takes her hand.

* * *

 

**Safely**

"Stop that, Dick. You're making me dizzy." Jason grunts from underneath a pile of Timmy and the girls. Dick doesn't even slow his pacing. Or stop talking.

"So KF and I come off the roof near the Flash museum, Piper and Trickster right behind us. Wally's laughing his head off-"

"Master Richard," Alfred interrupts the story and Jason feels a little gleeful. Alfred only uses "Richard" anymore in formal situations or when the aforementioned Richard is in trouble. "What have I told you about feet on the furniture."

Finally pausing his incessant movement, (Stop the presses! Dick Grayson is standing still, hallelujah!) Dick looks from Alfred to the sofa he is walking back and forth on the back of, back to Alfred. Then he unceremoniously leans backwards, arms stretched over his head, until his feet are in the air and he is standing on his hands (still on the back of the sofa). Then he continues his pacing and storytelling as if they had never been interrupted.

Alfred sighs.

* * *

**Closed-Minded**

_**[Takes place approximately two months after Damian joins the family. Around April of the year the show begins.]** _

"It's disgraceful, is what it is!"

Timmy stops behind the table he had been walking by when Mrs. Parish's shrill trying-to-be-quiet voice reached his ears. Mother had once said that Mrs. Parish was one of those people who felt it necessary to compensate for the empty space between her ears by talking about things she knew nothing about. Aimeé, one of the maids, says she is an incurable gossip. Jason says she is a mean-spirited old hag who never lived a useful day in her life. (Which makes no sense. Mrs. Parish isn't very old. Not more than twenty-five. Her husband is the old one.)

"I mean, the circus brat was one thing," she continues, "So obviously a whim of Brucie's, but then he picked up that Alley ragamuffin off the streets and we started getting concerned. And then there was the Chinese girl, I swear she is half-savage! And now he shows up with a bastard child! I swear-"

What she swears, Timmy never finds out because before he knows what he is doing he is around the corner of the table. "You're wrong!"

Mrs. Parish and her friend turn to face Timmy, looking surprised. He glares up at them, feeling so mad he could burst. "Cass isn't half-savage! And Dick and Jason are each better than both of you put together!" He draws in a deep breath. "And Damian is only four! You need to be nice!"

Then he realized what he has done and makes a break for it, hiding underneath the cloth of a table on the other side of the room. He sits there for a moment, hyperventilating, before he feels someone slip in next to him.

"You didn't have to do that, Timbo, you know that right?" Jason says, Timmy can barely hear him of the noise of the fundraiser. "We can take it. What bimbos like her think doesn't matter."

It takes a moment before he has enough breath to speak. "Yes I did have to. She's wrong about you." He pauses a moment. "Even if Damian is a meanie-pants."

Jason hugs him really hard after that. (Jason is weird like that sometimes.)

* * *

 

**Scheduled**

_**[Takes place approximately three months after they acquire Damian.]** _

Alfred raises an eyebrow as Master Damian trots by, a look of resignation on his face. "And what are you doing, young Master Damian?"

The pout turns into a scowl, a look that Alfred is much more familiar with on the newest addition to the family. "Hug time."

"Hug...time?" Alfred's confusion vanishes as Master Dick dashes through the doorway and sweeps the toddler up into his arms.

"Yep! Hug time!" He affirms cheerfully. "Absolutely mandatory, twice daily, no getting out of it. C'mon Lil'D. Cass and I are going to show you the greatest movie ever!"

* * *

**Orderly**

Alfred Pennyworth has faced many opponents over the course of his life. Armies and spies and producers and demons of the mind, both his own and those of his multitude of charges.

Richard Grayson and his idea of "tidy", are going to be the death of him.

He contemplates the room and for a moment considers just allowing the boy to learn a life lesson instead of searching for the Gotham Academy uniform that had _not_ been in the hamper Master Richard had brought down to the laundry room that morning. With a sigh, he wades into the fray. Master Dick has a hard enough time at the Academy already, all of the children do, without adding to it unnecessarily.

The desk is a veritable explosion of books and papers and various items of questionable origins. Alfred brushes the day old contents of a plate into the trashcan and makes a mental note to remind Master Bruce that one of the conditions under which Master Dick operates as Robin is that he keep his room in a presentable condition.

He does eventually find the items he came for. The school tie had been flung onto the top of the four-poster bed, the jacket is a crumpled heap underneath some children's books and a pile of blankets that belonged in Master Damian's room. He also finds a pair of Miss Cassandra's ballet slippers and a hoodie that was originally Master Jason's but he thinks might have been handed down to Master Timothy. He gathers up the foreign items and uniform and heads to the next bedroom over.

Master Jason's room, in stark contrast to Master Dick's, is kept conscientiously neat, down to the cups of pens and pencils on the desk. Alfred leaves the folded hoodie on the desk chair. If it has indeed been passed on to Master Timothy that is the best way to ensure that it is returned to him.

Miss Cassandra's slippers are summarily hung in her closet in between her pink leotard and the oversized Batman hoodie that had been her first requested purchase after joining the family.

Master Damian's nursery is directly across from Master Dick's room and thus back towards the stairway to the laundry. When the youngest master had first come to live with them his few belongings had been kept with a military precision that had, at such a young age, worried Alfred. Now, Master Dick's influence is beginning to show in the scattered crayons and pillows lying around.

The blankets returned to the bed and the picture books to their shelf, Alfred returns to his chores.

* * *

 

**Stranger**

_**[Takes place in the middle of Homefront]** _

When Artemis, Stephanie still clinging to her hand, gets back to the apartment building, her original plan is to find a way to ditch the girl and head out for the mountain. Instead, she finds herself being practically dragged up the stairs and into the hall a floor before her own. Stephanie chatters on, talking non-stop about things she and Cass and Timmy do. Most of it seems to involve teasing Timmy.

Stephanie comes to a stop in front of apt. 322 and fishes a key on a chain from the front of her uniform. "Can you stay for just a little bit? Please?"

***

Two hours later, Artemis slips through the front door of 422 with her hair a tangled mass of braids and neon purple polish on her nails and the thought that maybe this is what having a sister is supposed to be like.

* * *

**Together**

_**[Takes place immediately after Homefront]** _

Batman drives into the cave well past midnight to be met with Alfred's most disapproving face.

"It was necessary." He said before the butler could say anything. "The severity of the security breach caused by Red Tornado's defection required an instant response."

"Perhaps, sir." Alfred said. "That does not mean you were not also needed here."

He sighs and pushes back the cowl so that it is a weary Bruce Wayne facing Alfred rather than the inscrutable visage of the Bat. "Where are they?"

"Dr. Tompkins and I just moved them up to Master Dick's room." Alfred says, continuing to pack up the oxygen tank and equipment. Bruce feels his insides cringe just looking at it, knowing that he has once again failed to keep part of his family safe.

He showers quickly and takes the stairs two at a time of to the mansion's second floor and the door to Dick's room. Ace lies across the doorway and he gives Bruce a reproachful look of his own..

"I know." Bruce says softly. "I'm sorry. I'm here now though."

Ace thumps his tail on the floor and licks Bruce's hand and all is forgiven. The door opens silently and Bruce stands a moment, taking in the scene before him.

Dick is sprawled out over the center of the bed with Damian curled up by his right shoulder like a kitten. Cass is on the left side, wrapped around Timmy so that the younger boy has no escape. Jason appears to have laid claim to the foot of the bed and is flopped on his stomach, one outstretched hand fastened onto Dick's foot through the bedclothes.

Cassandra, the only one to wake at his entrance, smiles at him over Timmy's head. Gently, she untucks one hand from the tangle to beckon Bruce closer. He drops obediently onto the side of the bed, the slight jostling enough to disturb Dick and Jason, the latter of whom just rolls over and goes back to sleep. Dick blinks blearily at Bruce for a moment before he smiles.

"You're back." he whispers and Bruce feels another pang of guilt.

"I'm back," he brushes a hand through Dick's hair. "How are you feeling, Chum?"

"Better," Dick replies, already falling back asleep. "Stay?"

"I wouldn't rather be anywhere else," Bruce told the room. "I'm not going anywhere."


	20. Quinis - Tiny Grayson

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for some slurs and racism and people being terrible. Also Bruce's inability to people. (He tries)
> 
> The prompt was from Quinis and can be summarized as "Anything with Baby Dick Grayson - Circus, Juvie, Bruce, De-age...anything." I think I checked all those boxes!

**Association**

Dick leaned over the edge of the stone wall and grinned at the girl standing on the path below him. “How old are you? I’m six.”

“Seven.” She held up her fingers. “My maman said I’m not s’posed to talk to the circus people.”

Dick frowned. “Why not?”

The girl shrugged. “She said you were nasty gypsies and thieves.”

“You said a bad word!” Dick gaped down at her, leaning farther over. “ _Dya_ said to never ever ever say that word!”

“What word?” The girl looked confused.

Dick leaned closer and lowered his voice to a hissing whisper. “The g word.”

“Oh!” The girl’s brown eyes got very wide. “I didn’t know it was a bad word. Maman and Papa have been saying it a lot. I can’t be that bad if they say it so much.”

Dick flipped off the wall to land on his feet next to her. “It is,” he insisted. “One of the worst, _Dya_ says. She says a lot of people just don’t know it’s a bad word.”

“Oh.” The girl nodded, looking determined and relieved. “I’ll just have to tell Maman then so she’ll know. Do you want to jump rope with me?”

Dick grinned and did a cartwheel down the brick side-walk. “Sure! Do you know Double Dutch?”

“Irène!” A loud voice yelled shrilly and the girl turned to face it. “What are you doing? Get over here. Quickly!”

The girl gave Dick and apologetic look and ran over to the lady that Dick figured must be her mother. “What’s wrong, Maman?”

“You!” The lady ignored her, pointing at Dick. “Stay away from my daughter, you dirty gypsy brat!”

“Maman, that’s a bad word!”

“Is there a problem?” Dick felt a warm hand on his shoulder and he gratefully pressed against his _dya’s_ leg. _Dya_ would make the scary mean lady go way.

“I’ll say there is!” The woman’s voice was getting louder and louder. People on the other side of the street were staring at them and not in a nice way like the audiences at their shows. It made Dick feel very small. “You filth should keep away from respectable people! Get out! Before I call the police!”

Dick’s eyes widened. He didn’t like the police. They were mean to the circus, especially to the Vestris and Graysons.

 _Dya_ didn’t say anything, just turned around and began leading Dick back towards the camp, muttering under her breath in English and Cymraeg, neither of which were languages Dick could really understand, even if he could recognize them. He liked it when _Dya_ sang to him in Cymraeg though.

“ _Dya_ ,” he asked in a whisper, slipping out of French into the more comfortable dialect of their _familia_ , a blend of Vlach Romani, Russian, and Croation, with words and phrases snatched from other members of the circus. "Why are so many people mean to us?"

She sighed and squeezed his hand gently. "Because...because they are afraid of us."

"Oh." Dick said. "Why?"

"Because they do not understand us." She said softly. "Hatred comes from fear and fear comes from ignorance." She stopped walking and turned around, kneeling so that she was looking Dick in the eye. "Don't ever let yourself become that, little Robin. Be willing to listen and learn."

Dick was silent and thoughtful all the way back to their trailer.

* * *

  **Fortune**

C.C. Haly, more commonly known to the long-term members of the circus as "Pop," was shuffling through the piles of customs paperwork that needed to be completed before they could go back to America when he felt a light tug on his pocket.

With an ease born of long experience he reached down without looking and caught hold of the hand. "Raya? What are you doing?"

The Vestri's little girl pouted up at him through her tousled, red-tinted curls. "Treasure hunting."

Pop immediately recognized one of the children's favorite games. He took a moment to hope that they weren't using anything actually valuable this time, Claudine was going to quit if her jewelry went missing one more time and while it wouldn't necessarily be too difficult to find another contortionist - he had several qualified people already in other acts - it was another headache he didn't need.

Raya held up a battered piece of paper and Pop inspected it gravely, echoing Raya's seriousness. The authors of the homemade treasure map were unmistakable. The caricature drawings and carefully printed clues were Johnny Grayson's and the scrawled comments on the side that Pop didn't have the energy to decipher (he could manage Cyrillic but there was a reason John Grayson helped manage a lot of their business in those parts of Europe and it wasn't only the man's uncanny ability to charm almost anyone) could be no one's but Dickie's.

Suddenly, the likelihood of something having been slipped into his pocket without his noticing grew from almost nothing to a certainty.

That was confirmed as he pulled a scrap of orange satin that had to have been nicked from costuming, wrapped around what felt like (and he hoped were) pebbles. He sighed and handed it over. "Please tell Johnny and Dickie to leave me out of the game next time."

Raya ran off giggling and Pop resolved to talk to Mary once they got to Florida. As the younger of the Grayson boys grew, so did his capability for mischief and Pop shuddered to think what winter camp would be like without something to distract him.

* * *

**Arena**

Just to be clear, Bradley loaths his job at the Stormford Juvenile Detention Center. He has nightmares about the day that Jenny'll get a call saying he’d been shanked by a twelve year old. Geez, some of the kids are younger than _his_ girls and seeing them so hardened already is just depressing.

Not that Bradley is any kind of saint himself, if he was than he wouldn’t have had to take this job after his theft from the fancy little rehab center where all the kids from Bristol and other, only slightly less affluent communities, were sent when mommy and daddy caught them doing drugs had been noticed and they’d started investigating.

Hey, if the fat cats couldn’t handle to contribute to supporting those less fortunate, that was their fault.

He does miss his job there though. Putting up with entitled, spoiled brats was frustrating but at least (most) of them hadn't been a real threat to his physical well-being.

He could almost get to, if not like, then at least tolerate this job if it weren't for days like today, when he gets to watch teenagers entertain themselves by pushing around smaller kids and pretend not to notice anything wrong. In this case it is the Russians, setting their miniature attack dog on one of the new kids, a loner who hasn't taken up with any of the gangs yet.

The kid has to be at least twelve and more than twice the size of "Gyp," as Dmitriy Polzin, (who is second to Nikolai Aleksandrov, head of the mini-Bratva) calls his pet, but it is less than a minute before he is curled up in a whimpering ball on the floor in the middle of the ring of spectators, begging for mercy. Gyp stepped back quickly and Polzin says something sharply in what Bradley has to assume is Russian.

A couple of thugs pull the new kid upright, his face covered in red marks that will soon turn into bruises and already beginning to swell. His shoulder is probably dislocated if the way his left arm hangs lip is any indication. Polzin grabs the boy by the hair and shakes him, giving a speech that Bradley doesn't have to understand to know what it means. _Fight or suffer._

"Why?" The kid gasps and Aleksandrov, in the front row, smiles a dark smile that makes Bradley shiver, despite the thirty-odd years he has on the kid.

"Because it amuses me."

Polzin steps back and points at New Kid. Gyp moves so fast Brady can only see a small, jump-suited blur as he slams into New Kid feet first, through the air.

* * *

  **Faithful**

 Dick huddled down in the seat of the fancy car, doing his best to ignore the way that Mr. Wayne-call-me-Bruce-please across from him seemed to be trying to figure out what to do other than sit in awkward silence.

Hopefully if Dick ignored him he wouldn't try and talk. Dick just didn't have the energy to stumble through a conversation made up of Mr. Bruce's terrible Russian and his own awkward French right now. He clutched Zitka close, pressing her tightly in-between his side and the sling on his arm. At least he still had her.

* * *

**Page**

"Alfred," Bruce stuck his head into the kitchen on his way out to WE. "Have you seen Dick this morning?"

Alfred looked up from the cutting board, a peculiar expression on his face. "He is in the library, Master Bruce."

"The library?" Bruce concealed most of his surprise out of habit, but Alfred responded as if he hadn't.

"I thought the same myself, sir. But then again, I shouldn't be surprised to find _That Woman_ was wrong yet again." The venom in his voice on the only words he ever used to refer to Dick's first case worker was enough to kill.

Bruce grumbled an agreement as he climbed the grand staircase and entered the library. Dick was curled up on top of a bookcase and Bruce felt pleased that it had only taken him a few days to become accustomed to looking high first when searching for the boy.

Dick looked up from his book and seemed to startle at seeing Bruce. "Mr. Wa-Bruce!" He dropped lightly down to the thick-carpeted floor, cradling the book in his arms. Bruce could now see that it was _Crime and Punishment_. In the original Russian.

"Sorry, I am careful." Dick stuttered. "Прошу прощения."

"It is alright, Dick." Bruce soothed and was pleased to note that, in addition to not going straight to profuse apologies in Russian, the boy actually relaxed at his reassurances. They were making progress. "But I don't think that book is quite appropriate for your age." He had sudden visions of Alfred's lecture on cursing in front of little ears (never mind the boy had been exposed to far worse during his month in the JDC) with alterations concerning reading material.

"It is one of few I can read." Dick pouted. " _Война́ и_ _мир_ was too big."

"Dick," Bruce said with sudden understanding. "You know how to read Cyrillic don't you? Just not English or Latin script."

Dick shrunk in on himself a little but frowned up at Bruce defiantly nonetheless. "I am learning."

"I'm sure you are, Chum." Bruce said, "But Alfred and I can help you, you know." Bruce suddenly remembered something, long-forgotten. Sitting in the sun parlor with his mother, slowly sounding out words.

"And in the meantime," he continued as he held out his hand and Dick took it. "I'll see about getting some better books for you in Russian. How does that sound?"

Dick smiled and it was like the sun came out.

* * *

  **Ring**

Bruce managed to bite back his instinctive reaction to knocking his mother's jewelry box (repository of some of her less expensive pieces) behind his dresser. He successfully fished out two necklaces and a brooch before he found himself staring at the small, glittering shape of a ring, just beyond his reach.

Mindful of the small figure sitting on his bed with his knees pulled up under his chin. Bruce let loose a couple of obscenities he had learned in Hungary.

" _You said a bad word!_ "

Before the words in the same language as Bruce's...indiscretion had faded out of the air, Dick had bounded over and was kneeling on the corner of the bed, watching him with wide, gleeful eyes.

Bruce groaned and thumped his forehead against the dresser. They needed to put together a list of what languages this child spoke before Alfred made good on his threat to install a swear jar.

* * *

  **Progress**

"On the bright side," Tim muttered under his breath, "He's not throwing things anymore."

Cass just smiled beatifically at him and Tim turned back to examining the tiny figure huddled in the entry-hall chandelier. _How exactly does one convince a nine-year-old Dick Grayson to come down and talk to the strange people in his home?_


	21. Random Word Generator - Star Bats AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some 1,000 years before the Clone Wars, before Anakin Skywalker and Obi-Wan Kenobi and Darth Sidious, in the days when the Jedi Order was just beginning to find its feet among the struggles from within and without, in the days when the Sith fought openly and in abundance...There was a line of Jedi whom some would call Dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not actually own the character design for Dick Grayson (which will be expounded upon in upcoming, free-standing installments) That honor belongs to [Hawkstout](http://archiveofourown.org/users/hawkstout/pseuds/hawkstout), who put a great deal of thought into their own Star WarsXBatman AU long before I stumbled onto the idea.  
> Just about everything else, including name alterations and backstories and fighting styles is my own, with the exception of Stephanie's lightsaber, which is also Hawkstout's. Just to get that out of the way before I really start posting in this 'verse.

**Scream**

Yaalfred felt it across the city, the ripple of depthless agony in the Force when the second son of Tamzen and Marti Wayne fell to his knees between the lifeless forms of his parents. In his hundreds of years, he had never before felt such raw power.

The boy was too old, the Council argued, to scarred.

Yaalfred had never allowed convention to stop him before.

* * *

  **Nimble**

They are beautiful in their flight, Bruce thinks. The leaping and twisting human figures of the greater part of the family interspersed with streaks of blue as the Twi’lek and the tiny child who must be her son play their parts.

And then it all goes wrong. They fall and Bruce is unable to do anything other than feel the last desperate act of a mother through the Force as she pushes her son to safety and the guttural cry of loss as the child feels his family die, the bond with his mother brutally severed.

The circus master does not fight him when he comes to take the youngling. They both know that the Order is the only safe place for a half-Twi’lek, Force-sensitive orphan.

* * *

  **Burial**

Barbara sits apart, her hoverchair shielded from the rain by the cover Knight Lance holds over her. Yaalfred stands, silent and small, seeming frailer than Bruce has any memory of him ever having been before.

Riku is still on mission. He doesn’t even know.

This is Bruce’s fault. He fought the Council to train Jayson. In his arrogance he thought he could reach the youngling through the clouds of anger and pain.

He has failed Riku, and driven him away. He has failed Barbara and now she will never walk again. And he has failed Jayson and he is gone.

No more. There will be no more children.

* * *

  **Cover**

The initiate is small. Pale and thin, quiet and reserved in a way that could not be more different from Riku or Jayson. But his presence in the Force is _vibrant_ , subtle but piercing, compelling and almost frightening with a promise of hidden power.

You need a Padawan,” Timmoti Drakir says firmly, his outer confidence given the lie by the nervousness he radiates into the Force. “And I need a master. We can help each other Master Wayne.”

* * *

  **Dazzling**

She moves like no one Bruce has ever seen before. Not even Riku has such a connection to the Force, the way she flows. She stands before him, her sightless face turned upon him and Bruce feels her reach out through the Force in curiosity.

She asks without words and he cannot say no.

* * *

**Dice**

Kekepania Barna is wild and unpredictable. Bruce disapproves and says so.

Barbara reminds him that she doesn’t give a damn whether he approves or no and he can take his Moof-milking self elsewhere if it bothers him.

Sometime in the past decade, probably around the time she obtained Jedi Consular, Barbara became terrifying.

Bruce huffs and allows Tim to run off with the girl on another adventure. He would bet his non-existent inheritance they will both come back bruised and bleeding and grinning madly.

* * *

  **Tempt**

Bruce does not regret his choice to travel. He does not regret his choice to study with the Sith. To know your enemy is to know yourself and without knowing your enemy you cannot hope to defeat him.

He does not regret Miranda either, before or after she became Darth Tali’ya.

Even now, being stared down by his own face in miniature with skin a shade darker, he cannot bring himself to wish it different. No amount of darkness broiling in the Force, the arrogance and insecurities he can feel from the child with his mother’s eyes and a red-bladed lightsaber, none of it is enough to make him regret. Not completely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is basically a tiny little thing I'm posting to get myself moving on this AU, which I actually have done massive amounts of work on. Because obviously what I need is another AU at this point in my life.  
> If you wonder about any terms or anything, Wookiepedia is where I got it all. Enter if you dare!
> 
> PSA: if you like my ficlets, you might actually want to scroll through the comments. I end up elaborating on the ficlets a lot in conversations. There are entire comments that are basically just continuations of the blurbs themselves. Yes, I am that lame. I regret nothing.


	22. Kieve Grove

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These prompts were given by Kieve Grove on fanfiction.net with the theme of Batfamily interactions with an emphasis on Damian and Jason.

**Zebra**

"Goldie wasn't kidding when he said you loved animals." Jason said in amusement.

Damian scowled at him around the crate he was prying open. "Be silent, Todd. Or go away."

"Oh no." Jason hopped up to sit on a worktable, pushing aside the clutter of files. "I'm not missing this for the world!"

* * *

**Green**

Maybe it was pathetic, but one of the things Duke was having a hard time getting used to was the huge gardens and lush front lawn of the mansion. Yeah, the insides of the "house" were crazy fancy, but the only places Duke had ever seen so much _green_ were in pictures and in Robinson Park when Ivy was on a tear.

"Takes some gettin' used to." Jason Todd drawls in his rough voice, a lopsided smile with more than a hint of bitterness almost hidden by a cigarette.

Duke has been warned about the Red Hood; by the news, by Red R-Tim. He's not denying the way his instincts warn him the man can be dangerous, but right now all Duke can really see is a boy only a few years older than himself, who understands what it is like to fall asleep in inner-city Gotham and wake up in a completely different world.

* * *

**Ketchup** **  
**

"I have said it before, I will say it again." Jason scowled, "you are a heathen."

"Bite me." Tim muttered through his mouthful of what _had_ been a perfectly good chili dog before Replacement had gotten his grubby little paws and condiments on it.

* * *

**Summer**

Dick was in Armenia, almost two weeks into his trip when he walked into the room at a hostel and found Tim and Cass waiting for him, sprawled along one of the cots, casually inhabiting the same space in a way that made him miss Donna with a sudden fierceness. He'd have to stop by and visit her after he got back to the States.

"What are you doing here?" He asked, humor in his voice to show he wasn't angry. They obviously weren't here to try and drag him back to Gotham, too relaxed for that.

Instead of answering, Tim just looked up from his ever-present tablet with a small, shy smile that conjured an image of Tim when he had first become Robin into Dick's mind. "Damian would be here too but Alfred threatened him with forced socialization if he left before school ended. He should catch up with us in Prague."

Dick raised an eyebrow. He didn't plan these jaunts and had no itinerary. What made Tim think they- _he_ would be in Prague in three weeks?

Tim turned his tablet around so Dick could see the screen. "Haly's gets to Europe upon the completion of their Australian tour in nine days. They will be outside of Prague in twenty-two."

Dick laughed and conceded the point, dropping his backpack on Tim's legs and throwing himself onto the cot next to them.

Maybe having his siblings along would be fun.

* * *

**Obsession**

Damian clenched his fists so tightly he could feel his nails cutting into his palms as he watched his father and The Pretender leave the cave side by side.

He would prove to them all that he was worthy to fight beside his father.

He had to.

* * *

 

**Dream**

Jason might be on semi-civil speaking terms with _most_ of "The Family" (could they sound more like the Mafia if they tried?) but it was more a relationship of mutual tolerance and avoidance than anything else, plus a belligerent work relationship with The Replacement. He was not expecting Robin to show up at his safe house at three in the morning of his night off, trying to act like nothing was wrong. (Jason knows Bruce _and_ Talia though. And the Kid's got all their tells plus some of Dick-face Grayson's.)

"Whadda ya want, Brat?" He steps away from the window and lets the kid push by him, nose in the air.

"Nothing." He says dismissively. "I just came to see what a mediocre attempt at competence like you does in his spare time."

It's an obvious lie. He is sneaking glances at Jason out of the corner of his eye, a small crinkle of...something on his forehead above the mask. Jason is still irritated.

"Well I _was_ sleeping," he says bluntly. "Before a little demon banged on my window in the middle of the night."

He can't get _really_ angry though. It hasn't been more than two weeks since the kid's ressurection-

_Oh._

_Shit._

With a groan that emanates from the deepest corners of his blood-stained soul, Jason makes for his coffee machine. _Why me?_

"No, the nightmares never stop. Yes, they get less common." He avoids looking at Robin. At _Damian_ as he pulls two cups from the cabinet. "You should talk about it with someone."

A moment of silence before Damian pads up beside his elbow. "There's no one to talk to." The boy says quietly and. Just. _Damn it all to HELL!_ Golden Boy Grayson is dead himself, something that hurts, deep and twisting, in the shattered remnants of Jason's childhood faith in the infallibility of Batman and Robin, and Bruce is hardly the type for heart to heart conversations these days. Somehow, Jason doubts Damian has that level of trust with Alfred...

"What about Batgirl?" He hands the smaller mug to Damian and ignores the scowl of indignation.

"What about Brown." Damian says shortly, holding the mug as delicately as he would a bird's egg. "She has nothing to do with this."

"She died once too you know." Jason says casually. "Twice actually. On the table."

"I have read the file." Damian shrugs but there is a tenseness to his shoulders. Jason really needs to find a way to actually meet this girl. She seems like someone he would like and the fact that the brat cares about her so much... "I-I don't."

He looks so lost and so very young and Jason takes pity on him with a sigh. "Have you ever seen _Darkwing Duck_?"

"What?" Damian blinks up at him, completely thrown. Jason takes a chance and drags him over to the sofa.

"Let me show you the classics, Brat." He pulls the DVD off the shelf. A few episodes of silly adventures should help the kid relax. As the menu comes up on the screen he takes another chance and leans a little closer the huddled ball of Robin on the other end of the sofa. "And if you really need to talk...I'm here."

* * *

**Anxiety**

"Is there a problem, Master Jason?" Jason jumps and looks up. If it was anyone else he would be cursing himself for his inattention but Alfred can sneak up on anybody except Cassandra. He is a bit taken aback by the open concern on the old butler's face.

"No." Not unless you count having a panic attack outside the back door. "Thanks."

He pushes off the wall and makes to walk away but is stopped by a gentle hand on his arm.

"You are always welcome here, Master Jason." Alfred says quietly. "Never doubt that." He pulls back into the doorway and holds it open encouragingly.


	23. Sophia the Scribe - Travel On Infinite Earths

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Multiverse Theory (Or Multiverse Fact, speaking in-'verse) gives a lot of opportunities for interesting encounters and adventures!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These words were prompted by Sophia the Scribe on fanfiction.net with the theme of "time or 'verse travel." I limited the fills to 'verse travel only for this chapter, and it gave me plenty to work with as you shall see!  
> Several of these are actually teasers for longer fics I have in the works. (specifically, Begun, Infinite, and Discovered)

**Discovered**

_**(Mainstream Comics Continuity x My Fantasy** **AU)** _

Eventually, even Batman agreed that the best place for the Warlocks & Warriors alternate thems was the Batcave. Mostly, Nightwing couldn't figure out how _The Bat_ as he had introduced himself, managed to travel over any roof tops on any Earth with that much armor weighing him down. At least Alt-Nightwing seemed to have the right idea; lightweight and flexible.

The most difficult part of getting them all back was keeping the Robins from killing each other. Strangely enough, W&W Red Hood (And Dick was trying so very hard to keep from making any quips about Little Red Riding Hood, he really was) turned out to be really helpful with that, tag-teaming with W&W Nightwing and Batgirl (Flittermouse, she called herself) at keeping their Robin distracted.

Alfred was waiting for them, domino mask on and trays of drinks and sandwiches at the ready. "Refreshments, Master Batman?" He asked in that uber-polite way that was not really a request at all.

The way all the alt-versions of themselves relaxed at the sight and sound of Alfred did a lot towards convincing Dick they were who they said they were. "I take it you have an 'Agent A' in your reality too." he commented to W&W Red Robin, who was closest to him.

The familiar yet strange teenager gave him an odd look but nodded. "If you mean Alfredos," he inclined his head towards Alfred. "Then yes."

"Cool." Dick nodded back. Any world with Alfred in it couldn't be that bad.

* * *

**Sacrifice**

_**(Mainstream Comics Continuity x Some Sort Of Dystopian Future AU)** _

Cassandra had not gone to "Other Earths" as often as some of her siblings had, but she was familiar enough with the feeling that came with inter-dimensional travel to recognize it. As such, her first instinct was to take cover and assess the situation; see who would be friend and who would be enemy, and wait for Tim to find her with his new inter-earth machine and get her home.

Her first instinct was forgotten upon seeing what had to be this world's versions of Tim and Steph leaping out of the closing door of some kind of space ship or something to fight off a lot of armored soldiers and let the ship escape.

They expected to die, Cass could see, they just hoped to buy enough time to save their friends.

She palmed a smoke pellet from her belt. Forty to three were her kind of odds. As Steph would say, Team 5'5" was in the house!

* * *

**Crash-Course**

_**(Mainstream Comics Continuity x MCU - Post Civil**_ **_War)_**

"So there was a whole big fight that was nominally about oversight of superheroes, but turned out to be more about a super assassin called the Winter Soldier, who may or may not be more or less innocent of most of his crimes due to them possibly being committed under duress and diminished capacity, aka, Soviet/super-terrorist-organization brainwashing."

Spiderman nodded, taking a huge bite of the hot dog Tim had bought him from a vendor two blocks over. His Batman Inc. card might be useless in this dimension, but his cash seemed to work just fine.

"And how did you get mixed up in all of that?" Tim asked, frowning. "You're an underage, street-level vigilante. How did you make the jump to duking it out with the big leagues in Germany?"

 "Mr. Stark." Spiderman said through his mouthful. "Iron Man. He figured out who I was and came by my apartment. He said he needed my help and, uh," he swallowed. "He may have implied he'd tell my au-guardian if I didn't go with him."

"He what!" Tim's jaw dropped.

Spiderman winced and shoved the rest of the hot dog in his mouth in an obvious ploy to avoid saying anything.

"He blackmailed you and took you out of the _country_ to fight a _personal battle of his own_ under _false pretenses_!"

"Yeah," the kid (and Tim was the _last_ person to look down on anyone because of age but he'd not be able to think of Spiderman any other way for awhile now) shrugged. "That's where Daredevil kinda freaked out too. Plus his whole rant about how unconstitutional the Accords are and how many basic human rights and even civil liberties they violate."

Tim put Daredevil, who Spiderman had already mentioned as the extremely territorial guardian of Hell's Kitchen, on his mental list of possible contacts and allies to make. "Oversight is one thing. A good thing actually, but nothing that gets passed through in three days is good news." He wiped the mustard off his fingers and pulled his gauntlets back on before hauling himself to his feet with a sigh. "And my best chance of getting home happens to be the man who is all for that so long as it serves his purposes. Fun."

Spiderman hummed thoughtfully and seemed to come to a decision. "You could come stay with me and my aunt." He offered quietly. "I can say you're a friend from school."

"Thanks." Tim said, forcing his best imitation of Dick's 'we're all friends here' smile despite the knot in his throat. "But if Iron Man knows who you are he'll be monitoring you and I'd like to stay off his radar as long as possible. I think I'll go check out Hell's Kitchen." He pulled a grapple off his belt and strode to the edge of the roof. "And Spiderman-"

The kid looked up, pulling his mask down over his chin and yet somehow managing to seem so very young despite the red and blue, bug-eyed cowl. "You need to be more careful who you trust. I will keep your secret, but you don't know me well enough to invite me to your home. That is the most vulnerable you can be."

"I know." Spiderman nodded. "But since we stopped fighting and started talking, you haven't made my spidey-senses so much as tingle."

* * *

 

**Compromised**

_**(Technically this could be either time** _ **or** _**'verse travel, whichever you prefer to see it as!)** _

Damian refused to acknowledge that this was happening. There is no way that he would ever-ugh!

"Awww!" The alien floating in the air in front of him cooed, her glowing green eyes crinkled up at the corners so that she looked like Grayson when he was laughing. "You were so grumpy and adorable when you were tiny, _Ves' tacha_!"

The imposter who claims to be him as an adult (As if! He will be Batman well before he reaches the age the Imposter claims.) scowls and brushes invisible dust off of the red Nightwing symbol on his chest. "I was an arrogant, bigoted, insecure little monster." He says sharply. "Who is probably planning how best to dispatch you. Please back up, _Habiibtii._ "

No. There is no way that anything even remotely like this is in Damian's future.

* * *

**Begun**

_**(This one actually comes from a comics storyline where Batman and Robin (Jason Todd) travel to another timeline/earth and prevent the murders of Thomas and Martha Wayne. As they fly off, they are watched by an inspired Baby Bruce Wayne. Quinis and I have discussed the future possibilities of that Earth and I have a story in**_ **_progress.)_**

Bruce watched, wide-eyed in amazement, as the dark man and brightly-colored boy saved them from the man trying to rob them. It was hard to see around Mom, (who hadn't moved from in front of him since the first, scary moment when the man with the gun had stepped out of the shadows) but impossible to miss how quickly and efficiently they had the mugger tied up and the dark man spoke to Dad in a low, rumbly voice about calling the police and next time calling Alfred to pick them up if they were somewhere taxis didn't come, instead of walking through dark alleys, even if it was his night off.

As they flew away into the night, the kid looked back and waved at Bruce, a wide grin on his face, like saving people was the best thing ever. They reminded Bruce of the Grey Ghost or Zorro.

Bruce knows, with absolute certainty, what he wants to be when he grows up.

* * *

**Truth**

_**(Pre-Boot x** _ **Nu52)**

Babs sips her coffee and appraises the girl fidgeting in her seat across the table. She is so very, very young (not just physically, but mentally and emotionally) in a way Barbara doesn't think she ever was. "So you got your legs back and became Batgirl." It is not a question.

"Yeah." Other-her says defensively. "I wanted to help!"

"I was Batgirl for almost five years before I retired." Babs says quietly. "After the shooting, In my first year as Oracle I saved more lives than I had in all those years combined. The only way you could have gone back to being Batgirl-or become her for the first time, in your case, is if you decided to forget everything you accomplished and all the ways you grew as Oracle.

"I'm disappointed that any version of me could ever be so shallow."

* * *

**Infinite**

  _ **(This one is a little complicated to define. It's more of a prequel to 'verse travel and the source verse, aka, the one doing the traveling, might best be described as Earth 934, my own, close-to-comics AU. [We all have one of those guys, an attempt to make all the retconns and reboots make some sorth of coherent sense] so basically Mainstream Comics Cannon. Ish?)  
**_

"Somewhere, in one of these realities, is where she landed. The body we buried was a construct, meant to throw us off the trail." Donna finishes her speech quietly and steps back. letting the rest of them process. (She's emotionally sensitive and in-touch that way.)

Roy is paper-white, his wide eyes fixed on the map of the multiverse like it holds the secrets to his heart's desire. (Which Jason would say it did except that would not be _enough_ to describe what it could mean.)

Koriand'r has her battle-ready face on that promises to bring the hurt on those who had caused pain to her friends. Rayner (the jerk) who is probably the least emotionally invested of the lot of them is already reaching for his comm and informing one of the other Lanterns, Stewart probably, that he'll be out of touch for awhile.

"What are we waiting for." Jason scoops up his helmet. "Let's go save Lian and bring her home."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wizards & Warlocks is the DC, in-universe Dungeons & Dragons. Tim Drake plays it. :)
> 
> Ves'tacha is Romani for "Beloved"  
> Habiibtii is Coptic Arabic for the same, when said by a man to a woman.

**Author's Note:**

> I have a request.  
> If you would like to, I would appreciate prompts, "How to Give CaraLee Prompts!" illustrated below in three easy steps!
> 
> 1\. Feedback. I don't need much, just a couple sentences on something semi-specific you liked and/or didn't like! (E.g. "I don't think Jason was in character is such-and-such. I think it would be better if...")  
> 2\. Theme. Pick a theme! A color, a food, a specific AU, a specific character, an object, a situation, a random word...Just include something to be the over-arching theme of all your prompts.(e.g. "I would like to prompt these words...with the theme of the Crowded Enough YJ AU.")  
> 3\. Prompt. Pick seven words. These are the prompts that I will fill!
> 
> OR...  
> Pick seven words from previous chapters and give them to me as a challenge to write something totally different! (Theme is totally optional in this case! Re-write is a theme. :) )

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [The Teenage Son of Batman Adventures](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4043953) by [Quinis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quinis/pseuds/Quinis)
  * [Living in the Real World](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4117041) by [Quinis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quinis/pseuds/Quinis)




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